Flowing in the air, blowing in her long shiny hair, smooth and so fair, the wind guides her to the Yoma's lair, a venture only she would dare.

Shattered bodies and mangled corpses, humans and horses. Men, women, children, picked clean right down to the bone, adorn the grimy home of stone.

Still as a mountain, she calms her heart that's pounding.

Surprise fades away from the fateful midsummer's day. An eerie silence blanketing around is slashed by a shrill sound,
Her footfalls betrayed by a distant bird's call.

The air displaces, echoing paces, she tenses and braces,
Waiting to strike. Her eyes flick first, her body twists in reverse,
Fluidity and rigidity, reflex and instinct,
A hot white glint, silver in tint, darts out
Greeted by a red splash and a guttural shout.

Graceful and elegant, her blade dances about,
Gliding past demon armor to cut the heart out,
Only one will walk away, of this there is no doubt.

Perte de la gaieté et absence de sérénité,
Une découverte déserte, certes, toute inerte.
Cherchant à comprendre, détachant des évènements méchants, tout en trébuchant, tomberai-je dans le néant?

Une grande ombre bien sombre, cependant éclaircissant les décombres, avance. Grande malchance pour le guerrier contrarié, fuyant la chute, se fera emmurer par sa lutte.

Tenté, par la délivrance, mais c’est une révolution sans la moindre solution, étrange, car toujours rien ne change.

En dépit de quelques récits, ça chauffe, ça boue, serais-je qu’un pauvre fou?
Risque ou réalité j'ai tout connu, cette fureur, pourvu qu’elle ne m’avale tout cru…

A sick and dismal rain puts out a once sparkling flame
So ends the wax and wane of this dimensional plane
Breathing is in vain, lungs fill with butane.

A fractured domain ever rising in fame
Impossible to contain this advancing hurricane
Permeating every membrane, shattering window panes
Water unrestrained, this beach erodes grain by grain.

Bursting veins power this racing train
The click of a hammer will begin a new reign
And a red, ugly stain is all that will remain.

Quelle honte que cet oubli, où as-tu rangé cette douce sympathie qui, dans son absence infinie, réitère la beauté qu’a été sa vie ?

Malheur…

que ta douleur reprenne propre ampleur si jamais tu parvenais à piétiner cette belle petite fleur pleine de douceur. Les traits de son visage s’estompent, quelle honte, ne la laisse pas s’échapper ainsi au fil des années. N’oublie jamais sa douceur et le bonheur qu’elle t’a apporté.

Aujourd’hui elle n’exprimerait que son désaccord; le jeune homme qu’elle connaissait, existe-t’il encore ?

A thousand times again
Ailments escape the den, is no weight too great?

Give us the key.

Eerily
Only feebly kept at bay,
The once black lines now become gray.

Will realities crash and happiness cease to be,
For so much will has risen in me

A raging inferno may repair what it destroys,
Will it usher in a new dawn
So I can take measure of what is gone?

If all appears to be harmony and coexistence in this garden enclosure,

All that means is terrible truths have not yet suffered proper
exposure,

Might you wait a little bit and watch it completely lose its
composure?

Intruding into this once peaceful garden,
digging down in the soft tissue of the mud, is absolutely
the most maniacal bug.  There he goes, he jumps he dashes, he sets devastating fires, but not the kind that leaves behind ashes.

Note that this heinous invader is white and black,
spots of red pepper this raider’s back.
Small with spiny legs ending in sharp claws,
his eager jaws ooze venom that chews and gnaws,
as he ravenously feeds on the garden’s flaws.

Faking harmlessness, you haven’t seen what lies beneath,
like a longsword hidden under its sheath.
This insect is a minion of discontent,
the harbinger of torment.

Every day he lurks there among the tangled grass,
sinking his teeth in unsuspecting plants,
to make them into his loyal sycophants,
He corrupts them farther and farther,
to the point where they even despise being watered,
because his new instruction gives them a thirst for
mutually-assured destruction.

Can you see the garden deteriorate fast, the green turns
brown and the fibers that hold everything together
cease to last?

Toxicity courses through the vegetation,
and now, plants with no evil inclination
are being swallowed up by fear, hate, and indignation.
This once beautiful botanical cultivation
has become a ******* abomination.

Every vine and leaf slowly becoming decayed and grisly.
Has excising the infestation become far too risky
because the plague has manifested and spread,
and the first wave of his victims are already dead?

Definitely people will wonder, even though he’s turned your garden over and under, how could such a little insect make you go completely insane? Well because there is no garden, he lives in my ******* brain.

L’esprit planté sur sa civière face à une surabondance de pensées, figé comme un poisson dans une rivière gelée, attendant la clémence de l’été.

Abimé comme un moteur non-huilé alors qu’il pénètre davantage dans cette maudite vallée, seulement on entend que les ratées.

Des raisons pour s’effacer, il y en a mille; mais dites-moi, que restera-t’il si, anonyme, il se rejette dans l’abîme ?

Hatred and fears appearing real
what you know, it is not
Your mind is a knot, but can it be untied?

So let's climb aboard this vessel and set off on this river of red
even though you can't see the waterfall ahead so you can do something ******* stupid instead.

This vessel isn't sturdy, more like a canoe which clearly makes worse
what you plan to do,
Things seep in and also out, this is the part where you start to feel doubt,
And yet you paddle on, the wharf behind you is all but gone but you hope you won't be out for too long.

This thrill is only fake fun, but sadly, you'll only realize this once the damage is done.

An ideal he seeks to truly live because he has everything to give, though worlds pass by before his eye.

There is less time to be had, no lifelines to grab but he isn't sad, he chose to be a nomad.
But today he is astray, and unable to convey his dismay, all may fall into disarray.

A little more regret each day, things he wished he could've said, they weigh down on him like lead, for he carries the burden of the dead.

Stars wheel overhead and dark dreams rule his head
Has he lost his feel for the real?

A growing concern the fruits of his mind are beginning to peel.

He steps over the ominous ledge, so massively tall, in his lonely fall he cries out, for he'd barely lived at all.