A little sorrow mingles with the heart and makes it bleed,
just right under a promise that everything will be for the betterment of the mind,
a mind that every single one of us defends tirelessly, in order for some day to set it free,
but my mind wonders and embraces that sorrow that refuses to hide,
for there must be rapture to be unfolded in these long nights, that simply are neverending.
Many dare to condemn life and cast their fists to the sky,
nothing but just a reaction of the blind, who cannot see any reason why,
and sorrow cries, for she is a right part of every single life,
because from her all true happiness and rapture shall born and rise,
and from fire everything shall be made anew and hence no more demise.
Sorrow that entwines her tears with that of ours,
let them flow unaware of the world and the time that devours,
for this one has no mercy upon her victims, not even in the last hour,
and clad in ebony holds us tight in a cold embrace,
making sorrow say on our behalf a last pray.
Rapture does not let her face show without the company of suffering and sorrow,
she cannot be alone for they belong to one another in their own harrow,
it would be folly to recognise them separately,
for they taunt our souls coarsely,
thus let them come and be overcome all in one,
and undress this life of ours from her ghastly dreary.
RQ
Moscow
06.01.11
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