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The barren earth oozes blood, and shakes and moans, to drink her children’s gore - part II

de Ingurgitating Oblivion

I dream of trees and orchids in scarlet spheres ;
I dream of seven moons shimmering above twilight chapels ;
I dream of hills overgrown with trembling juniper ;
I dream of silent colonnades leading through stony archways in infinite gardens ;
Acacia - woods hem in mossy busts covered with ivy ;
Endless paths run under the dark branches of elder firs ;
Mon cher ami de pierre ;
Est-ce que tu as jamais revé ?
Est-ce que tu dors sous les voix majestueuse des arbres gris ?
Mon cher ami de pierre ;
Parfois, j'écoute ta chanson triste.
I grope my anxious way through whispering beech - forests ;
And I discover myself sleeping in my close bed ;
Under an ancient column with weather - beaten inscriptions ;
You, kissing my white cheek and crying silver tears ;
Can´t you help me, beloved one?
Don´t wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream ;
Lie down close to me ;
And let me see ;
Your poetry ;
Mon cher ami de pierre ;
Est-ce tu as jamais pleuré ?
Pour le lierre tu chantes des serenades au soir ;
Viens, mon ami, danse avec moi sur les prés en été ;
Viens.
Of trees and orchids the wise man sings in minor ;
Ponds are reflecting the foliage´s play ;
The oleander is in bloom ;
And sylphs delight this fragile beauty ;
Oh, my trees, oh, my orchids, what a nocturnal romance ;
And don´t wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream ;
Lie down close to me ;
And let me see ;
Your poetry ;
What a nocturnal romance.

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