~*~

Loneliness in flames
The Moors lost depth
wherefrom
silent drums arise
thundering against these unreflecting mirrors

Here you can only hear a clock that is ticking
over an already lost time
run beloved being
.. run...

Again we shall find
that the calendar lies broken
We turn over once more its pages coloured in ochre
on time, on time
on time with the throbbing rhythmical beat

The Lines run in the middle of the field
in spite of the fact that time has been standing still
Here's no referees
we await the singing
from the deep
where the voices still are the silent instruments

Do you remember the song?
There will never be an after. We can begin again...

Let me tread on the glassfloor
so I can see down into the deep
where the corpses glow!

Tomorrow as well we shall
we all
like the obsolete pages
fall to this rhythm
of the drumbeats of the eternal ages

Tempo

It is the dance of the dead of the ball
death's endless circle of the petrified to stone
the brutal region where they await the sacrifice

And now here we are
and we see the emptyness echoes

I have said that I am blind
The sea over yonder, mirror of the gods
it too without reflection
a fragrance from the abandoned inner yards

Do you know what I write?

Today death's damned hour has come
martyrs and executioners
heroes and the lies
a lost civilization's hidden rocks
to dig you up again from oblivion

because to forget is really like dying

Your body bears my stigma
the sign
in which I perpetuate our death

The Day
the Eve
the night frightens
All is frightening in this sick corner of the world
where the elapse of time is forsakened
forever it is engraved

There is nothing to forgive
its in the past we lived
It is the dance of the dead of the ball
and here I am
alone
to behold this danse macabre

Over the desolate steppelands
you can hear the sound of the murmuring crowd
It is the old hearts of the dead that then
opens themselves
shuts themselves
echoes in the budding thistles

Who?
Who said there were no flowers growing in the deserts
to the music of paralyzed hearts?

Time change

the ringing responses to the ancient pulse beat
wide opened memories
that shuts
the certainty of all
the funerals laments
the fortunate graves
Memories, the silent still rains

Who?
Who claims the flowers do not go to their death?

An echoe
a roaring tick-tock this sound
from paralyzed hearts which you can hear through these voices
that opens up
into happy waterfalls,
flowering landscapes

Who? Yes who, claims that death never dies?

Pause

The Fire does not burn
the rain pours and we are naked
at the beach shore
balancing a stack of wood

Towards the abyss
Towards the gray clouds of the mountain

the sound of the spreading fog

I see nothing
at the footbridge I walk at the edge
arms outspread
even I go
to find a tomb

Some small woodshavings glows panting stubbornly
upon the moist soil

The whole field are
the last
path
towards the end
from the earth

the fog that cover us

we do not dare to see

There is no fire
the rain pours and we are naked

Do you see?
The length and breadth of the cross
the width of the whole landscape before us

Tempo

Here I stand
and bid my farewells to the departed ones
I came here once
on this screen
to write
the beat of the drum and the fire in the soul
The Memory is a corpse
that will forever burn ablaze upon the parched plains
a space where these lost voices slowly sink into silence

Did you come here for a taste of the macabre,
where I hardly own more than the corner
for the pictures of my childhood heroes?

This Evening is a mountain of sand
that points out our meres in the distance
and the water
a mirror
in which time itself hides

I stand here full of regret
An ancient rain pours within me
here
where the thistle bears the signs of water's steam
opens itself
shuts itself

To where does your way lead now humanity's friend?
the fires are burning
if wood is not missing

beat time with your stamping foot to the drum
stubbornly I persist in time and stay

(Calin 05/11/09)

L Patrik WJ english version 01-02/12/09 som adventsgåva

(och här finns min egen Danse Macabre)
http://www.poeter.se/viewText.php?textId=809690