| Strolling all alone… across the ancient cemetery…-
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| tell me, isn’t everthing here… of a timeless green?!
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| I see that several visitors are also agthered here,
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| having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard… just like me.
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| i keep a chandle burning for myself so i won’t feel all alone;
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| we should have done so, but we never celebrated anythin here at all.
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| A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills,
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| felling everybody… as it crawls upon the monuments…-
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| only i escape its power, for the moment seem immune;
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| yet, two eldery ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb
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| are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain:
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| «The dead are furios with you!
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| as you’re wasting your precios time!»
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| Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls;
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| I hear the dead are calling: «sadness lies in wait in the hours before
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| dawn!»
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| These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us they are the silent witnesses of a reason about to pass;
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| I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life’s finiteness,
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| that i am filled with fear and worry… and so much shame because of this.
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| Well, everthing I see, yeas all the iomages are blurred,
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| it’s hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world.
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| How should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored,
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| considering the dreadful blindness with wich i have been born.
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| We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all;
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| I hear the dead are calling: «sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours…
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| …right before the dawn!» |