Some unholy thoughts lay awake in our weak heads while we have our troubled sleep.
Sometimes the idea of human seems me to like the coming together of weak peacocks and fierce lions.
Man is like a bottled air lost on a deserted land.
He seems to me like a white shadow in fetters .
Truly, I want to sing a blue song of freedom.
A picture of flowing streams and singing valleys obstructs my melancholic view
Yet this song of sorrow plagues my lips like a million curses…
Yet this song of dry fears bid me “Sing me, Sing me”
I obey, singing along like a black shadow in shameful chains
Have I been so much battered?
Have I been so much crushed?
My soul has refused to fly.
Truly, when they talk of happiness, love and peace
I get mental images of ghosts.
This trio have becomes ghosts.
Ghosts with tales of sorrow and horror.
In them I find no anchor.
No hope for me anymore?
I then resign to my fate of
beautiful face enveloped within a
Tortures smile, sad dead eyes and bleeding heart.
If there be any other human out there, who hasn’t been crushed.
Who still has little strength left
Give ear to my song of sorrow
As I cry in a deafening scream
“Help!”
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