Людям Настоящего [поэзия] - Лайтбрингер Тимонг

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Название:

Людям Настоящего [поэзия]

Автор

Лайтбрингер Тимонг

Жанр

Поэзия / Эзотерика

Дата добавления:

18 март 2020

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Людям Настоящего [поэзия] - Лайтбрингер Тимонг

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Выбор многих аспектов

Our age is just so short …

Have you ever had that thought?

Did you ever think of life

And the death in which you'll dive?

We may tell you of your choice -

Listen not if it is noise,

Listen for to change your life

And the death in which to dive.

May we hope that you will hear

Of the cross you'll have to bear?

May we trust that you will listen

Even though your eyes don't glisten?

Even though the path is hard

And may tear you apart?

We will tell in but few words

Of that Choice Of Many Sorts,

You may hear us or not,

Having fled, or having fought.

Choice is simple as it is -

You may help or you may tease,

You may fight or you may run,

Being moon or being sun.

You'll be wise or you'll be dumb,

Being river, being pump,

Being friend or being foe,

You'll be head, or you'll be toe.

You may live safe or be in danger,

Be encaged or live as stranger,

Live as man or live as herd,

Wait for freedom - or shepherd.

Live for good or live for bad,

Feel as happy or as sad,

Feel as same or feel as other,

Live with enemy or brother.

You'll be once or be forever,

Dead at once or never-ever,

You'll be life or you'll be death,

Nothing more, yet nothing less...

Choice is told for those who’re bold,

Being whispered, never sold,

With a touch and not a hit

Light of yours we tried to lit.

You may hear or may not,

Change your path or just abort,

But of this you have been taught

For your life is just so short...

Мертвые рыцари

I know, I know - the epoch's wrong,

No more bard will sing a song,

No more knight will roam the lands ...

Theirs weapons fill museum stands.

I know, I know - they are now past,

Theirs bodies nothing but a dust,

But their spirits still alive -

And for the justice they still strife.

The word and blade ... the word is blade -

And it will make its holy raid,

All sleeping knights it will awake

For good of all ... for their sake.

The knight is sworn to uphold good,

Be always vigil, fast on foot,

The knights are born to fight with evil

In their hearts as with a devil.

The knight is sworn to protect weak

And justice he shall always seek,

Those knights are always born anew -

But their numbers very few.

Is there is one to answer call ?

The question made, the silence fall ...

They have embraced their dreams -

To make them fight there are no means.

I know, I know - they are long gone,

When they are killed - the world shall moan,

When they are dead, the world will cry ...

Come forth, assassins, make your try !

For I do know - the time is right

For one ferocious, one last fight ...

The knights are born to no avail,

And thus villains shall prevail.

The time will pass, the world will shift,

And virtue will once show a rift,

For there is thing that's truly sad ...

There are no knights - they all are dead.

Последний вопрос

When time will come for you to die

Will you behave like shocked guy?

Or will prefer to keep your silence?

Or rush and cry with hate in violence?

And how you'll rate your used life -

Two? Three? Four? Five?

And who will be with your that time?

And what was your life's biggest crime?

And what the question you will ask

Before it is your final dusk?

And will you face without fear

Her silent gaze, which would be near?

And what will be your final words,

Are they melodious chords?

Or will they sound just like this :

"Oh death, hold on ! I beg you, please !"?

There is much time now to decide

Before it is your final night,

Until it is your final dusk

How will you answer, being asked.

For judging way of how you died

One understands of how you lived,

It may be most important thought …

And all the other matters not.

Любовь и ненависть судьбу твою творят

Love and hate will brew your fate,

Open divine, hellish gate,

Make or crush your human being,

Burn your eyes or give new seeing.

You was once a man of pride

Who was many times but right,

Something like enlightened man

With a wisdom in your pen.

Of the love you tried to say,

Helping strangers on your way,

Writing poems at your leisure,

Living life with all its pleasure...

All until you start to hate

Other humans on earth plate,

Who were full of sins and evils,

Who did look like just as devils.

Was you right to feel as such,

In disgust escaping touch,

Turning back in thought and action,

Cursing their breed and faction?

They, perhaps, were distant ones,

Though they too were divine sons,

Though they too were God's creation,

Though they too were population.

It's now different you feel -

Heart was locked with a seal...

Oh, where has gone your sanity?

It's all but like insanity...

With a headache in your head,

With your eyes of color red,

With the illness of your mind

Will again peace you find?

Love and hate decide your fate,

Closing hellish, divine gate,

Killing or reborn your being,

Give new sight or end your seeing...

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