Horizon - Rough TranslationOften I dreamt of flying as free as a sparrow,But my mental-outlook was ever so slightly too narrowFree and affectionate wind, the sun and the sea,The trees and the flowers lived in my horizon and me.I never mastered philosophy, maths or statistics.My mental-outlook was always puerile and simplistic.Only the airborne delights and igneous sorrowsLeave me with hope to expand my horizon tomorrow.I never named myself Milton, or other great names,Antediluvian still my horizon remains.Only the stars and the grain, only death and rebirthLive in my soul and complete my existence on earth.I never served for my neighbour, even be it God's willMy mental-outlook is shameful and primitive still.But you shall not fail to remember our sacred affair,That earth and humanity shall re-unite in the air.Only the airborne delights and the igneous sorrowsGive me the hope and prevent me from dying tomorrowI will not fail to remember, what in me remains:The stars in your eyes and the tender,
The Coast of DonauOh, Coast of Donau, I will leer,Upon the wrecking of your beauty,Appoint me, Father, with the duty,To resurrect the ever dear,And conquer growing vines of fear.Impart to me a dying daydreamOf adolescent ages lost,Of earthly pleasures and their cost,Which I have payed when they betrayed me.I stood upon the Golden Coast,Wishing the Sun Bed for my own,To share with no one; and aloneWith all my greed to get the most.Voluptuous waves of crystal waters,I saw in you my only Grail.But then - deception, like a veilHas taken hope, which I besought for.There is a lot that I remember:The gentle whispering of trees,The sense of sensing, being pleasedWhen cold and light are bound together...Oh, Coast of Donau, what is thereFor me to mourn for else, than thee?I have none, but a memory,And something hostile in the air...Then it was gone. The lonely river,Brought plague and heartache with it's tide,The lungs were scorching on one side,And eyelids closing on the other.Silent
Nonsense - Empty TalkWhat a beautiful timeWhen the sun is gone,When the world of mineSleeps under snow.Here I sitAnd writeAnd comes out a storyMy paws feel the frostbite,But there is no worry.Such a wonderful day!My paws aren't cold,It is just my soul,I cry and my tearsSuffocate me may,Little by littleA novel is written.I like to remember the past.And I have the rightTo abandon flattery phrasesIn my story at last.My childhood is no interestTo your mind,What a horrible timeIt was...Take for exampleMy difference of body.Having two tails?What is the horror about that?You better tell me,You meaningless prat,What is so preciousIn being like everyone else,And then laugh at thoseWith a different appearance.We'll leave that right there,This empty talk!And now I shall finallyGo for a walk.
People Leave...Once or twice a mourning bell shall toll on a fine morning.Someone of thy true affection in a while will be gone.Blesséd Goddess of the Present, look upon me, show thy presence,Turn the sun not into crescent, order time not to move on,Someone of my true affection under moonlight will be gone,Order night to be withdrawn.Lo, the daylight is not pleasing, violently teasing,And the specious warmth of it is meaner than before.Glory to the one who reads my tragic story,For my time is running out much faster than before,And the gloomy rays of helios are knocking on my door,Quoth: "Thou hast thy love no more."Close to nightfall, half-way dreaming in descending sunlight's gleaming,Beams of moonlight come to power on the firmamental face,Full of shame, regret, damnation, and no doubt, without salvationHear my quiet imploration, the almighty sign of grace!No, but only to myself I lie about this fraudulent grace,Soon the the day will night embrace.But Verdandi, they will lea