| Standing knee deep in cold water, swiftly moving, somehow I knew I’d lost
|
| something
|
| Wading waist deep I saw a book there in the river, waiting for me to find it
|
| there
|
| I tried to read it, neck deep, treading water, but the tide, it pulled me out
|
| to sea
|
| Then, with water in my eyes, the words began to rise from their place
|
| They were beautiful and dread; |
| I reached for them and fed on each phrase
|
| They were honey on my lips, but then a bitter twist in my side
|
| I knew they’d lay me in my grave; |
| «Is there no one who can save me?» |
| I cried
|
| Sinking, down deep through cold water and heavy silence, shadows stirring in
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| the gloom
|
| What things lay sleeping down deep in the darkness woke then, to find me in
|
| that tomb?
|
| Then, with water in my eyes, the words began to rise from their place
|
| They were beautiful and dread; |
| I reached for them and fed on each phrase
|
| They were honey on my lips, but then a bitter twist in my side
|
| I knew they’d lay me in my grave; |
| «Is there no one who can save me?» |
| I cried
|
| And when I lost all hope to look, someone took that heavy book from my hands
|
| All its weight they set aside, after they had satisfied its demands
|
| I felt white and black reverse, and the lifting of a curse from my heart
|
| Then like one receiving sight, I beheld a brilliant light in the dark |