The light escaped barely through the cold morning.
I found you broken—and I was too,
You healed me more than I could heal you,
I wiped the tear rolling down your cheek,
Your last word escaped the brim of your lips
So weak, so fragile;
And our love grew boundless.

The children grew heavy on our backs
The desert sun was baking our skin
But we could still see sand, endless at the horizon
We knew our last days were near.

The cadence of the birds
The gentle breeze
The waters and the plants:
They breathe

The days,
My mine did break,
I was imprisoned,
Destroyed,
Swept out of existence.
A boy lonely,
A sad one.
Craving to look once more,
Happy.
I was hopeless,
Feast soon my misery.
Divert me,
From this morbidity.
Last I could resist,
No longer,
I will confess,
With tears I went.

There in the heart of the woods,
Like the forgotten answer to a riddle,
Lost,
The very path forgotten,
Is the sleeping palace.
All around the seasons are awake,
Busy glass blades rise up in springs,
Sheaves are stacked in autumn,
In the veins of the leaf,
Misty vapour in the valley,
But in the sleeping palace,
Nothing moves at all,
Nothing dies;
Nothing returns.
Full of grey more like a picture,
Than the pictures on its walls.
Yes I say,
The palace is full of men and women,
Every one of them alive,
And every one asleep.
The Butler is in the pantry,
With a flask of his master’s wine.

Through the forest,
I have found,
This flower in love,
Who is he?
This despised,
Pretty soul.
With love upon thy eyes,
Let love forbid,
Sleep on the eyelid.
So awake,
When I am gone,
**** me,
Do not haunt me.
Wilt thou darkling leave me?

I’ll come back another time,
Give my love, tell them I am sorry
For I cannot stay,
To her I will return.
Don’t know when that will be,
But I will come back here,
I won’t forget you.