Music of the marshes
Oh, how pretty, don't you think?
That greenish hue of the burning bush
against the rose-lit purple of the night-time sky.
It hurts my eyes,
it hurts my eyes!
Oh, but can't you see, my pretties?
That fluffy, snowwhite owl,sleeping yonder on a branch.
Tis a vulture, a voracious vulture!
It's eating me, alive
it's eating me, alive!
Oh, but look at that, my darlings,
the flowing, opaque, orange waters
of the stillborn marsh, it's so, so very still.
Twisting and turning and waving,
it's twisting and turning and waving!
Oh, but can't you hear, my dears,
the call of the sweet sound of silent song
that's rising from the deepest depths?
It's calling me,
it's calling!
Oh, but won't you follow me, my children,
diving into the blueish, water-filled horizon,
into our very merry joy, our life of happiness.
It's coming, the light,
it's slowly, slowly coming!
That greenish hue of the burning bush
against the rose-lit purple of the night-time sky.
It hurts my eyes,
it hurts my eyes!
Oh, but can't you see, my pretties?
That fluffy, snowwhite owl,sleeping yonder on a branch.
Tis a vulture, a voracious vulture!
It's eating me, alive
it's eating me, alive!
Oh, but look at that, my darlings,
the flowing, opaque, orange waters
of the stillborn marsh, it's so, so very still.
Twisting and turning and waving,
it's twisting and turning and waving!
Oh, but can't you hear, my dears,
the call of the sweet sound of silent song
that's rising from the deepest depths?
It's calling me,
it's calling!
Oh, but won't you follow me, my children,
diving into the blueish, water-filled horizon,
into our very merry joy, our life of happiness.
It's coming, the light,
it's slowly, slowly coming!
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Zo Gezegd | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: christina | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 03 april 2012 | ||
| Thema's: | ||