The Chronicles of Uppsala

Some are telling the fortune, some lie, some sip potion.
Burst the bubble for me when the music is over.
The Unfortunate One shakes the history ocean;
It's a fresh record book, he's a careful owner.

Sails are running without a map and a planning guide.
Cities instantly rise when and where we call them.
And the garret is lit with green sun outside,
And the leaves have not fallen.
...no, they haven't yet.

Some are brawling, some drink; jingle of glasses is cooling off;
Buildings' gait goes wild, and the world's outline's a mess.
Bold handwriting is crossing the highest from South to North,
It's a skein of wild geese, what d'ya mean by "return address"?

And the twilight is closing like a cathedral,
Windblown mysteries fill in the record collection,
And you find a check envelope sent from the midland,
And it's taking a year to apply the correction;
“Not a handout, a gift.”

Kings and noble men dancing on paved squares' brickery
Turn to bronze, and the waltz weaves the lace of a sneer.
Give up writing your books of illusion and trickery! -
But the time he wakes up there is no one near.

He is laying the pencil aside and his lips are locked
As the age is enraged and its answer nonpassionate.
The Unfortunate One writes the story of Uppsala,
Very little beyond it arrests his attention.

Frankly, there is nothing beyond it at all.


Original: lxe.livejournal.com/1466684.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uppsala 59°51;29; N.Lat. 17°38;41; E.Long.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wonderful_Adventures_of_Nils