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The Qasida of Doubts.

O, my crown is turning rusty,

My defence I cannot trust to,

Nights are poisoned with disgusting

Cawing of a crow.

From a tree a leaf is falling,

For my soul, as if, its calling,

And my soul will answer, moaning:

You! Arise and go!

Im a king my throne is swaying,

Im a void, I am the aching

Of a heart thats slowly failing,

Shining of a coin,

Im dead lovers in Verona,

At a wedding I am foreign,

I am standing in an open

Field I am alone.

Im alone and not a fighter,

While the safety is in numbers.

Wheres at least one friend? Im howling,

Save my soul, o Lord.

Let me be green grass thats growing,

Let me be a leaf thats falling,

Sound of people who are talking,

Grey hair of the old.

With eternal peace bestow me,

Just a little of it show me,

Lace of curtain, gently flowing,

Flowers scent at dawn.

Give the shining of a lightning...

Be it easy life or striving

All the same the pain is biting

At my very core.

At dark midnight it will wake me,

Weakness into power making

So inscrutable and shaky

Is the way I go.

Somewhere, juvenile or ancient,

In a crowd or by myself there,

Through my life Ill leaf then, pensive,

Being slave or lord.

Flame of tournament Ill be there,

Armours ornament Ill be there,

And from wisdoms spring Ill drink there,

Strict and all alone.

Cough and pain, my joints are aching

And the tiredness is waiting...

Rise! Ill never..! Rise! Ill never..!

Rise! ...I will... And go.


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