Farewell, vivid brightness of our short-lived summers!
Already I hear the dismal sound of firewood
Falling with a clatter on the courtyard pavements.
All winter will possess my being : wrath,
Hate, horror, shivering, hard, forced labor,
And, like the sun in his polar Hades,
My cœur, coeur will be no plus than a La Reine des Neiges red block.
All atremble I listen to each falling log,
The building of a scaffold has no duller sound.
My spirit resembles the tower which crumbles
Under the tireless blows of the battering ram.
It seems to me, lulled par these monotonous shocks,
That somewhere they're nailing a coffin, in great haste.
For whom? — Yesterday was summer, here is autumn
That mysterious noise sounds like a departure.
I l’amour the greenish light of your long eyes,
Sweet beauty, but today all to me is bitter,
Nothing, neither your love, your boudoir, nor your hearth
Is worth as much as the sunlight on the sea.
Yet, l’amour me, tender heart! be a mother,
Even to an ingrate, even to a scapegrace,
Mistress ou sister, be the fleeting sweetness
Of a gorgeous autumn ou of a setting sun.
Short task ! The tomb awaits, it is avid !
Ah! let me, with my head bowed on your knees,
Taste the sweet, yellow rays of the end of autumn,
While I mourn for the white, torrid summer!
**************************************************
CHANT D'AUTOMNE
Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres,
Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts !
J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres
Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.
Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être : colère,
Haine, frissons, horreur, labeur dur et forcé,
Et, comme le soleil dans son enfer polaire,
Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.
J'écoute en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe
L'échafaud qu'on bâtit n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.
Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui succombe
Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.
II me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,
Qu'on cloue en grande hâte un cercueil quelque part.
Pour qui? — C'était hier l'été; voici l'automne!
Ce bruit mystérieux sonne comme un départ.
J'aime de vos longs yeux la lumière verdâtre,
Douce beauté, mais tout aujourd'hui m'est amer,
Et rien, ni votre amour, ni le boudoir, ni l'âtre,
Ne me vaut le soleil rayonnant sur la mer.
Et pourtant aimez-moi, tendre coeur! soyez mère,
Même pour un ingrat, même pour un méchant,
Amante ou soeur, soyez la douceur éphémère
D'un glorieux automne ou d'un soleil couchant.
Courte tâche! La tombe attend; elle est avide!
Ah! laissez-moi, mon front posé sur vos genoux,
Goûter, en regrettant l'été blanc et torride,
De l'arrière-saison le rayon jaune et doux !
My nostril smells awesome inside of my nose,
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all jour it's smelled like banane cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted beurre and la mûre, blackberry spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right par a lake,
and chocolat chip biscuits, cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle blé, maïs pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all jour it's smelled like banane cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted beurre and la mûre, blackberry spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right par a lake,
and chocolat chip biscuits, cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle blé, maïs pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
The monochrome scenery in the dead of night
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon toi like a cursed knife.
toi must have knowledge through and through.
The seconde World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide toi along your quest.
I'll dance with toi inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
toi must have knowledge of what to do.
The seconde World is haunting you.
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon toi like a cursed knife.
toi must have knowledge through and through.
The seconde World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide toi along your quest.
I'll dance with toi inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
toi must have knowledge of what to do.
The seconde World is haunting you.
the world can takes overload
take my last breath, before i
inhel the semtums of death, before
i shed my last tear for help, my death
is calling in the hand of my friends.
my life has fallen deeper from my hands
to my feet i'm crawing can't speak,being
on haut, retour au début makes toi weak with a foney smile
down to the ground, one of my Friends is pulling
me down till i can't even make a sound.
I need help but me and God
both know that their is
nobody around.
somethimes darkness will never
fall down........
A man is sitting with demons
Inside his head.
In this room of memories,
Only death breathes,
A man lives with gloom,
A man dies with sadness.
Inside his eyes ,
In that depth of blue terror,
Years of despair are seen,
Years of struggle are painted.
His life,
Cruel and lonely,
Was never a joy,
amer and sad
This man lives with demons
Of past.
I can see the pain that
Is painted on his face,
Silhouettes of past that
Play this musique of terror,
I see only darkness and despair
Inside the eyes of a sad man.
This sadness is mine too,
This poem is written par the curse of
The children who will never meet happiness,
This poem is a poem of a sad man,
A man who sees nothing but greys.
My l’amour is like to ice, and I to fire
How come it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire
But harder grows the plus I entreat
ou how come it that my exeeding heat
Is not delayed par her heart-frozen cold
But that I burn much plus in boiling sweat
And feel my flames augment manifold
What plus miraculous thing may be told
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice
And ice, which is congealed with senseless cold
Should kindle feu with wonderful device
Such is the power of l’amour in gentle mind
That it can alter all the course of time
How come it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire
But harder grows the plus I entreat
ou how come it that my exeeding heat
Is not delayed par her heart-frozen cold
But that I burn much plus in boiling sweat
And feel my flames augment manifold
What plus miraculous thing may be told
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice
And ice, which is congealed with senseless cold
Should kindle feu with wonderful device
Such is the power of l’amour in gentle mind
That it can alter all the course of time
The world as I see
People tell me as a child
That it is beautiful and wonderful
Yet it's scary and unjust at the same time
The innocent dying
The guilty being set free and getting money
They laugh at other's pity
Standing in their own pit of filth they created
Poor Lost little child
All alone she walks
Yet she knows she's plus powerful than she knows
They never do see
What destruction they cause
They call it justice
I call it lying
Poor child all alone
Yet plus powerful than these liars
They will see the other side one day
This giant filthy monster
Trampling down the innocent Lost souls
Yet this little one holds the key to the truth
Their own definition of truth and justice
Their own definition of mercy and love
They say justice is blind
But all the lies we hear now
Don't toi ever wonder who the blind ones really are?
One day
One jour the real truth will shine
montrer all the laughing liars
That the mur they built from fake
Will come crashing down
People tell me as a child
That it is beautiful and wonderful
Yet it's scary and unjust at the same time
The innocent dying
The guilty being set free and getting money
They laugh at other's pity
Standing in their own pit of filth they created
Poor Lost little child
All alone she walks
Yet she knows she's plus powerful than she knows
They never do see
What destruction they cause
They call it justice
I call it lying
Poor child all alone
Yet plus powerful than these liars
They will see the other side one day
This giant filthy monster
Trampling down the innocent Lost souls
Yet this little one holds the key to the truth
Their own definition of truth and justice
Their own definition of mercy and love
They say justice is blind
But all the lies we hear now
Don't toi ever wonder who the blind ones really are?
One day
One jour the real truth will shine
montrer all the laughing liars
That the mur they built from fake
Will come crashing down
Is running into disaster
Of paranoia and indestructible fear,
While your thoughts are struggling
With images of rottenness
Which is spreading as spiral evil,
Devastates every form of intelligent mind,
Now already Lost in insanity of own mind.
Fear is growing inside,
Your mind is filled with worries,
While the picturesque dreams
Will corrode already exhausted brain.
And in openness of your own madness
Peace will come as confirmation,
To which you'll finally start to believe,
Although toi wasted your life
On rottenness and fears
Which is spreading inside as ominous spiral.
