Images of the Spirit 3

1.         Ah, yee blinded freedom,

Riding golden waves in this mist,

Pleading for the touch of flowers,

Earning nothing but truth; beauty,

How can thy feet fly with ease?

How come thy soul of souls,

In tears my hate forever shatter?

Ah! Brilliant shadow,

Glimmering lights only taste pathetic

That of what was left.

Now oceans are half empty,

With brown leaves forests awake,

With salt are all eyes covered

Begging thy witness of the divine

To melt over their senseless corpse.

2.         Glows of flaring red,

Forces of deceiving joy,

Water becoming blood,

Night becoming day,

Stop!

Must I serve my heart

On plates of fire?

A mind, on falling spiral sits,

Curved lines of danger

Emerge from this yellow mist,

Sharp-edge shadows

Break a lover´s kiss at dawn,

It, who waves the hand and bids adieu,

For morning glory

Will, in fatal curse

The deed of a soul upon him renew.

And all weeping eyes remember him,

Whose deep-rooted statue

In every heart remains.

Us, missing his tears, joyful or sad,

Of afternoon dew,

Stare his footsteps under rain,

Though in vain, we proclaim

What was never there,

And thus, we cry.