Upon the croon of the old zephyr;
Under the blue half-sphere
Where the universe whispers to the ocean,
Gazing at its glittering pearls;
Where Sol and Luna would finally meet,
On the bloody front,
Wounds by amber arrows,
War rose to dust,
All comes to dusk
I shall be there;
Where dreams go further than the edge of the night;
When the veil of blurred eyes fall from the sight,
Passing by; armful of daisy petals and leaves,
With a beat pulsed by tears,
With a heart haven of the wearied and lost
I shall be there;
Under roots, I grow;
Nourish by rose’s tears
Beat on the beat, as music goes,
Swing and stomp, never get old!
Hear the wave toils as they flow
Rampageous foray into the trench called shore
To rocky shields of cliffs, subject to gore,
Smash and crash, then turn to crystal ash
Heed to stars as they mutter,
Stretching out their luminous arms,
To the end of the endless darkness, alas, in vain
To illuminate this dungeon that had captured them, since they recall
As the breeze slither under shadows and meadows
Gently caresses the ocean’s dreams,
Braid the green hairs of the Willow tree
I shall be there;
Until hope shimmers in tragedy,
Until trumpets blow that crazy sound, velvet tone,
Even if their brass memories doom to rust.
Yet the wind wanders through the lonely lands
Yet the Throne of Silence is lost beneath the sands.
Between the two Western and Eastern fronts,
Between the two allies of Blues and Jazz,
Between the time’s cracks: the Tick and the Tock track,
Behind the bend of the Lost Road, where the truth lies before,
Sail my paper boat: the Solitude
Against the wind, beyond the lines,
To the past, where the Greenlight still glimmers slow
To my home, a land where poppies can rest and grow.
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