Dream Note No. 14 – Five Nightmares

The steel helmets march in,
decimating this lifeless land;
in anguish the helpless burn,
on black marshes the children stand.

There is nothing I could do,
for in paralysis I lay bare,
when children ran in on the spectacle,
of a cherished yet forsaken mare.

In dreams I dream of my airy cask,
in the air I wield a blunted sword,
again before this old indigo dusk,
resolute and honest does the blade thrust.

In estranged land she brings to me,
fruits from a lake of blood,
formed as the emperor’s dessert,
into crumbles the world shatters.

O what before a long sleep stand,
when in sleep we dream of this prelude,
tormented and morphed into despair,
in sleep I sleep in a no-return land.

Yet strange it is the barrel shakes not,
for all but episodes of a crimson plot,
when snow falls on a traveller’s path,
as light drapes over a loveless knot.

Published in: on 05/01/2020 at 10:07 AM  Leave a Comment  
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Dream Note No. 12 – Жаворонок

Empty handed on an empty stage,
fingers frozen in a distant past;
forgotten melodies on an empty page,
forgotten friends in a wooden cast.

Which notes recount the summer days,
when dreams of winter imbue my heart?
Which, songs would autumn praise,
no more, he hears of the youthful lark.

For whom, the rainbow? They ride a gale,
riding along an unmarked road;
defiled by his vulgar flail,
redeemed by his Opheliac abode.

Cherished in his bloodstained hand,
memories to their gazes chained;
before the homely gates they stand,
that began with the windows stained.

By the balcony the lovebirds part,
with sweet murmurs of delicate love;
as she falls toward the lavish pines,
as marble before a labyrinth he stands.

The silent intruder the libraries hail,
in arias from his nightly ghost;
down he spirals on a silvery trail,
what courage he finds in this abyssal host.

Still the larks are in peace asleep,
as he steps onto the reminiscent rug;
urgency calls for a unexamined sweep,
for the night too shall return to sleep.

Yet reveries stun his capricious mind,
as old age returns with a blissful light;
as the silvery trail become diamond steps,
from his cello the lark takes flight.

Published in: on 12/09/2019 at 4:54 PM  Leave a Comment  
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