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[Yume]

Yellow Eyes

We've roamed the wild country
My beautiful yellow eyes,
Side by side we've hunted
Shadows dancing on northern skies.

There have been times of plenty
We were content and serene,
Peacefully sleeping
Dangers few and far between.

We've also known much hunger
Ribs protruding from each side,
Mournfully we howled
When our starving cubs had died.

And then there was our first winter
Romping thru the glistening snow,
Tasting each crystal snowflake
Falling gently to and fro.

Ah my dear, sweet yellow eyes
I've known no greater love,
Without you, I am nothing
Our wild souls are one.

And now you lay there dying
Steel jaws upon your frame,
Life's blood slowly seeping
I whimper your sweet name.

Helpless, I watch you struggle
Chest heaving with labored breath,
Steel jaws clenching tighter
Winds whisper the song of death.

The blood has now stopped flowing
I know the time is near,
And you will forever leave me
My love, my life, my dear.

And now my world is silent
Your struggles now have ceased,
I lay my head upon you
And know you are at peace.

Perhaps your soul has lifted
To skies where eagles soar,
And there you'll greet your brothers
To run with them forever more.

And someday I shall find you
In the heaven's so far above,
And when our wild soul's unite
There'll be no greater love.

Šo rakstu rediģēja Reiki: 07.12.2004 14:08

[bengalaas]

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

(Dylan Thomas)