A Ballad for Death

A compilation of the first 500 poems I ever wrote.
I write in my free time accross different styles and themes, sometimes there are reasons to what I write and sometimes there are not, but I always try to follow my inspiration.


357. Skyfall

This is the end,

The end of an era,

The future is waiting

Just around the bend

J’irais – ou plutôt je voudrais aller là – où tu iras

If ever you find yourself crying

My shoulder I will lend

For I wish nothing

But to be your faithful knight,

Oh how I wish we were a thing

And to hold you dearly at night.

But I can hear the bell

Ringing in the distance, far,

The end of an epoch, this epoch…

Oh my dear do not feel bad, even I can tell

That we are who we are,

The hand has gone around the clock

And upon this eleventh hour

My one and only desire

Is to face eye to eye

My destiny and not cower,

As the fingers of the Moirai

Take out the flames of this fire.

I am not dead,

I shall not die, I will survive,

No matter if our thread

Is cut shorter, my hope will thrive;

I know nothing of what will come

But a blind man I will still run

Where to or even where from

I know not, but isn’t it fun?

I cannot say that I am fine,

I cannot say if I will be,

Whatever happens we will see

Perhaps may even come a sign,

All in all I am not sad

I’d rather say melancholy,

Perhaps indeed it is just as bad

That I bask in it wholly,

Though who can stop me from myself

Apart from me?

I will not sit eternally on this shelf

In the silence and the dust,

Mais pour le moment restons amis;

I swear, despite my brave words, that I can feel my heart slightly rust…

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