.
Time goes by, feel it fly!
Grains of sand -for each hand-
Fall downwards, move onwards,
None can see, none can flee,
Just make most of that host,
Take it back; move, don’t slack,
Melancholy, oh that folly!
.
To Mumbai
.
Oh I know you are here,
Yes indeed I can hear
Your voice ringing so clear
Pleasantly to my ear,
Though, despite even this,
I cannot help but miss
Your presence, reminisce
About its soft warm bliss.
Perhaps it is not fair,
To force us both to bear
A burden so unfair,
Perhaps it is; I care…
For I know it’s not new,
My feelings are all true,
For I know it’s long due
That I tell I love you.
.
For a reason unknown
.
And here I am, standing in the warm sun,
My eyes are closed, dreaming of having fun,
The day is great but cannot be adored
For the simple reason that I am bored…
Do not ask me why this is happening,
Or to explain wherefrom comes this feeling,
I don’t even know what has gone amiss,
But somehow I cannot feel simple bliss…
Oh I am bored, though I want not to be,
Isn’t there anyone who can help me,
Fill my heart with things akin to wonder,
Excitement, and bring back the lorn thunder?
Neither sad nor depressed, just a bit blue,
Can you help me, at least to find a clue?
.
I know I will
.
I know I will,
I will never quit,
I know I will,
I will keep going.
I know I will,
I will never quite,
I know I will,
I will get this thing.
.
Decide
So, to dream or to live?
Often you’ll have to choose,
But why make it and lose
When you can just believe?
Oh dear, life is your muse,
Though, for all you receive,
Know beauty can deceive,
And that all of us bruise.
Would you too…?
.
If I told you sweet words
Oh simply to impress,
If I showed you the birds
And all that is priceless,
If I loved you so much,
So much that it would hurt,
If I yearned for your touch
In never-ending flirt,
If I took you away
To places of wonder,
If I only dared say
I’ve long felt the thunder!
If I were brave and true,
As soon as light of day
Would bathe us in its ray,
If I were brave and true,
This is what I would do…
But I am not, I know,
All of this was for show,
And none can I undo.
.
Cent vingt mots si rêveurs
.
Sans cahots ni sans heurts,
Sans sabots ni sans cœur,
Un bourreau sans chaleur,
L’échafaud, monte en pleur
Car il faut sonner l’heure
Du héro, leur sauveur.
Cent cachots, tous en chœur,
Cent échos si harangueur,
De la haut, fi des peurs,
Sonnent faux, prient son heur.
Cent hérauts et jongleurs
Sans un mot et sans pleur,
En un sursaut rageur,
Brandissent, Ô poing vengeur.
En cette aube de malheur,
Par ces sots, vils penseurs,
Par ces faux fils de mœurs,
Au service de l’empereur,
Bien trop servile ferveur,
Sans accroc ni erreur.
Un terreau et des fleurs,
Ce héro gît sans peur,
Vivent ses mots et ne meurent,
Sans ego ni fureur.
.
The duel
.
Alone. It’s now just the two of them
Fighting for their kind, fighting to the death,
Until one or the other, draws his final breath
Gods among men, otherworldly mayhem.
One is the lost son of the sun,
Whose legend has only begun,
The other the keeper of night,
Which he has long kept full of fright.
Clashing against one another,
They cannot be stopped anymore,
Not even when both have reached death’s door,
Except by the soft touch of a mother.
.
Tale them love
.
Tell them about heroes and kings,
Tell them of these ancient battles
Taking place, ago, many springs.
Oh tell them about adventure,
And the dragons and the castles!
Those things that will, their hearts, capture.
Speak to your audience words charming,
So as to keep passion burning,
However in those tales thereof,
Do not forget to tell them love…
.
Before the ink
.
Under grey clouds, his dying breath,
He expires, on to meet death.
A cold chest stained by dark red blood,
Pierced by a long and sharp steel rod.
The fight has gone on for hours,
Never flinches, never cowers,
Qualities that she now curses
As tears flow and cry pierces.
Trying to save his love he died,
In only that he took his pride.
The monster stands, still tall, unharmed,
Over her who he sees unarmed.
Oh she attacks -without a doubt!-
She strikes and strikes again, all out.
For once he sees what fear might mean,
But she falters, not yet a queen…
A wicked smile spreads on his face
As he gives her a good end’s grace.
All is quiet as he means death,
When suddenly, a single breath.
.
Tales of Ore 