Preamble For The Silence 22. 05. 03

     Стихотворение написано в стиле "The Virgin At The Gates Of Hell"/"The Agony Of Dream" - обращение к абстрактному персонажу, либо ко второй половине своей собственной сущности.
      Сочинено оно кстати, в наиболее ненавидимое мною время года - ранней весной.

                Preamble For The Silence

When the green sprouts from under the granite,
Our scarred earth is resuming to bleed
And the Evil flies round this damned planet
Spawning down its detestable seed

The hot whirlwinds are fanning the smoulder
From the depths of oblivion drawn
But your woebegone soul's staying colder
Then the sepulchre hewn in a stone

You've cognized that the vengeance can madden
And you did not surrender the spite
But your black path still leads to Abaddon
Through the lifeless and augural night

All your grief always was so profound
'Cause your soul was born not to pretend
You're the last very guard of this ground
And the sorrow is your only friend

Such a pointless and cruel pseudoscience
Rules the mess of the desperate days
You got none but the fading reliance
And the sacred faith hard to retrace

This strange faith is recalling your essence
With the peace to escape and redeem
You believe in your bright adolescence
Even if it was simply a dream

Maybe you made a too long preamble
For the story  that ne'er will begin
Now the spring sabbaths which you assemble
Tends no one but the spirits of spleen

Just the ghosts... and a road of a palmer
To the steel chancels of the Reverse
You shall spell the funereal summer
And the Heaven will heed your dark verse...