Dream Note No. 15 – Капли Дождевые

Falling, into the depth, hark –
the howling of this dry youthful well;
there are clouds within my heart,
where raindrops hardly hold themselves.

In history’s stain the victors are righteous,
for we neglect the passing hours;
whether autumn answers winter’s calls,
who is the arbiter of this lawless world?

In dreams the righteous are victorious,
for the unrighteous act of playing God;
behind a veil old faces return,
when the lifeless dreams in a raindrop.

Such speed is this reckless world,
for the world is our ambitious task;
yet do you know that ambitions are,
but a veil for our anxious heart.

For the beauty of life I weep,
for the meaning we did not cherish,
bestowed upon life by our artful soul,
and buried in dust by the mindless ghoul.

For our withering friends I weep,
for their love that gave beauty meaning,
for the heartful letter that gave way to text,
for my wilted regret, when raindrops fall.

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