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I'll write no more. I'll sing
The whisper in my head:
'The world is dying, the world is mad' -
And sadly grasp for something
That's no longer there.
The dead in wounded silence stare
Where we in self-destructive moods
Have planted memories in dead soil -
And unaware, in mortal toil,
Our desperate, dark woods
Have tenderly and all around us grown.
But now, with souls of stone,
We lost exactly there
While with the dead we wildly stare
At something never seen before:
'The world is dying, the world is dead -
And we will be no more.'
28 februari 2001
Uit: The Secret Garden
Ash Wednesday
ASH WEDNESDAYI'll write no more. I'll sing
The whisper in my head:
'The world is dying, the world is mad' -
And sadly grasp for something
That's no longer there.
The dead in wounded silence stare
Where we in self-destructive moods
Have planted memories in dead soil -
And unaware, in mortal toil,
Our desperate, dark woods
Have tenderly and all around us grown.
But now, with souls of stone,
We lost exactly there
While with the dead we wildly stare
At something never seen before:
'The world is dying, the world is dead -
And we will be no more.'
28 februari 2001
Uit: The Secret Garden
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Lilian MuilemanActief sinds: 13-02-2018 Facebook
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Op dit gedicht ‘Ash Wednesday’ van Lilian Muileman zijn auteursrechten van toepassing (©). Het gedicht is onder auteursrechtelijke bescherming geplaatst op Dichters.nl.
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