BOCHIM - Lysander

BOCHIM 

Lysander

Blue smoke flees away through the mists of Avalon
it cannot be followed by the bravest
they will be lost forever once they have gone
too far to be ever found, even by the wisest

But her hair was black as shadows in the night
I saw blood that split second I dared to come near
and as if was it a cheek, porcelain white
glide from her scarlet lips slow like a tear

Her eyes were hell-green and made me blind
I tried to catch her, tried to remember
but her name slipped away in my mind
grab her waist was all – could I have saved her

The smell of weakness came along with the moonless night
the chilled air she breathed heavenly, broke
when she said – and oh, I had never heard before this sight
this words, this language she spoke

"Once in the Dark Forest raised by monsters
by the fishes in the depth of the lake known
not the West-Side, but on the Puszta by the wild tigers
on the East-Side, where this immortal existence has never shown"

A phantasm, she was, and a genius but nameless
a trapped angel, like a charmed creature
she could not fly through the lightened darkness
but her dance in the rain of flowers faded with nature

With lost shades and forgotten dreams
with myths and legends on the Olympia
as poison unique sweet, as juice it seems
but from the fossilized lips of Giulietta

Like pain from a tongue filled with cold ash but in flames
I tried to transform the fangs and fears into wings, still lonely
and a drunken foul could, only I lay no given names
there was no escape behind the scarlet air, only fallen blue misery

One quiet moment I could hear a sound in the air
the beating hearts of three birds so beautiful
beautiful birds of ill omen, before a wind blew through her hair
lifted her robes, so heavy and dreadful

It gave her the strength to take a lance and pierce the omens
she leaned back on the lance as if it was a temple-pillar nor less
harsh and violent - like the ancient Romes
twisted eye of a witness made her view like a goddess

Blue stars named themselves pearls of the sky
the moons were vague and grey that Holy Night
in the arms of the Dark Lord – could I have heard her cry
cold as ice, she did gone into the light