Leonardo Campos

The Crying of the Willow

Two have been, O the times,
The first I saw, on the balconies of Ivory
And there were white roses on the walls of the Lord
And my soul was flamed, burnt, and my eyes became salty seas
And o, as my lips hissed the sad sound of the wind,
Blew names that do not exist on this burning ground of darkness.
I found myself on the floor, in an agony with no name,
While all that there had, not existed in name:
The first stated by the Lord, and forgotten by us, by His order.
Was the second time, that the fire won his name,
Besides the natural that we are given, what can we be?
Unless what we already are?
Winning the invincible, as if it were clear and feasible?
Far from the eyes crave touch, and still do,
While living Death, so shall they crave.
Loved'er, among the torns tiny-spikes of such rose, so I did.
And how many nights I think of the coming days...
And there is now, the deepest of a feeling
Great sure of grief hast thou, O fallen.
May us rejoin together..
May deaths embrace show laughter.
And the hesitation of the wind,
Is the same for mine soul: My sin is my guilt.
Let them be, so much for they are.
Or that I now, may die.
I tell you, for there's no peace,
Nor here, on the midst of war,
Nor in our afterlife, on beyond brinks of insanity.
Over such dreadfull visions of sane treading courses,
And that the fire, of our candle's night,
Quietly told, as to be the day's death.
Seeking to be oblivious over the dark net
That can turn, sane as visions, to be mad.
Forget not, thou art here, and so aren't they,
Mistake is to be made, see that the fog and mist,
May take the stars for being ashamed,
Ceasing to exist was never meant to be our ugly end.
As so long, here is beyond, may lovers be lost!
May be, as such she and him, tricked over fate's destiny?
Laugh, laugh, dear love, weep, weep, salty willows
That may your tears, drop from gallows to wooden pillows

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