River in the Valley: Three poems
No words from my quivering mouth, frozen tears chill my heart and brain;
Cold, no one to warm my numbed muscles and flesh;
My empty castle, bereft, not a shadow moving;
Perfidious you, piercing my soul with your deadly sword of deception;
Treachery, secrecy, wiles, agonizing fibs from your tongue splitting apart like the fork of the Devil in Hades;
Like your Father and Forefathers who inhabit the bottomless darkness!
Unable to prove your devilish schemes;
My heart wounded and aching, I find an escapade; off to the peak where eagles tarry or down to the valley of the peasants in their merry-go-round;
Perhaps, perhaps, one soul will have a pure heart, in the valley of the merry-go-round;
The brightly lit valley, the dance, the music, the laughter, the reverie;
I envy the morons, the clowns, the peasants, the simpletons;
They have no fears for they are aware that they are already in hell;
The hell, their haven, their den, their heaven.
Down the Valley of the Fools
He approach me, the clown, the fool, the bright fool;
"Will you dance with me, Madam?"
We dance, we laugh together;
But my heavy heart loath you;
And I remember, I still remember;
Your cheating soul, your lying tongue;
I got to run, run away from the fools, from the simpletons;
Run away from you, not to my castle, but somewhere, to nowhere;
To where there is peace, to the river of tears.
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