Тимонг Лайтбрингер - Людям Настоящего [поэзия]

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...

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.

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.

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...

Slow down, friend, you've worked fine
For endless months staying till nine,
And worked like a caged pet,
Whose health became his crazy bet.

All hoping to contribute much
To your new home place as of such
And please the rulers of the match,
Who are too far to be of touch.


But you will find no treasure chest
In a society like wasp's nest.
A test of will, a test of faith...
How have they called this madness' race?

And how did they explained to others
That they must now forget theirs brothers,
That they must be ‘devoted ones’
And thus become the Working Funs?

And thus to spend entire days
In office cells - this slavish place,
With no time to return to home,
With no will not to sign the form?


Slow down, friend, you've done your best
And thus have earned your rightful rest,
It was your last and final test -
To learn to do not always best.
To learn to choose the things, that's right,
To learn to make your person's fight.
And trust me, you will not go down,
If you at once
Will
Just
Slow
Down.

We are but mere pawns in the hands of kings,
We are the mindless spawns, just soul-enslaved beings.

No more than the listeners, no more than the followers,
No more than self-missed ones … will ever we be over us?

We follow those without minds, who claim they have divine rights,
As if they are the higher beings, yet they and blind and have no seeing.

We could not find the satisfaction unless we do belong to faction,
Unless we all are parts of crowd, for only then we feel us stout.

And we will fight to our death with those ones who's been claimed as "less",
And we will drink theirs bloody tears and name those drinkers as the Heroes.

Thus snake will catch it's own tail, thus it will comes to no avail.
Thus heroes born, thus heroes die … and will thy soul that survive ?

And does thy soul ever feels that you are standing on your kneels,
That you are lesser than a man if you are slave there and then?

And will you ever understand that there is but one Upper Hand,
The hand of god, not mere men, and will it all be over then..?

But will you ever come to peace? And will you stop the other's tease?
And will you ever think of others as if they were your own brothers?

And will you find the satisfaction belonging to yourself, not faction?
And will you thus become the Man, so it can all be over then?


Just one thing might be said as right - it will be done by men of mind.

But dreams are crumbled to the dust
And being blown by wind’s gust,
And you begin to see yourself alone
In wild world, which used to be called "home".

No more goodness, help and caretaking,
For here starts your new way of life making,
Where you will be the only real god,
Where every other will be like a toad,

Where you will have the right to judge and blame,
Where you will never feel the shame,
Where you’ll be free of moral bounds,
Where you can easily cause wounds,
Where you can state what's good and bad
And thus decide if one is mad,
And help them shake the spirit grounds,
And teach them how to inflict wounds,
And make them almost just the same
So they will never feel the shame.

You’ll be set free, you'll be the god
And every other is a toad,
Just one thing must be done at last...
You have to crumble dreams to dust.

Тебе, неверящий давно, я слово молвлю лишь одно :
Пускай убил в себе ты Бога, пускай ты вышел из Чертога,
Пускай Ковчег не для тебя и черна ждет тебя Заря,
Но не изменит весь твой путь Живого Бога чисту суть.

И вам не знать, пока не знать, что значит духу умирать,
Трясете Бога вы фетиш ... что смолкнул ты, чего молчишь ?
Вы Бога предали давно, и слово за слово одно
Смешали с шепотом вы тьмы, на путь тем встав же Сатаны.
Политик, церковник, преступник и врач, какой ты устроишь на глас этот срач !