Xenathon

When history cannot remain Take my soul therein detain A world received, there an end No monument or man, could ever mend Breath and time, failing the high With anxious will, we worship the sky

Once so frail and meek, red and pale And of beauty's grace, never to fail With anxious will, I gave her my dim rose A queer and quaint nocturnal life, the me I such chose Temptress aplenty, steals me within my core Digesting my soul, and I beg for more Oh the heart in truth, innocently it does beam And on darkened night, a luscious smile does gleam Never could I forget, such glimpses of her As she pressed her hands deep, within my fur Jessica, Jessica, my dearest black dove Better yet a Raven, whom I do love And a charming expression, a pleasurable delight Doused in gluttony and harm, though never in plight A crimson bed wet, dr

"There are rows of black birds flying above us, my love... Away to foreign warm places leaving no memories or traces - There are rows of black birds above. There is a strong, cold wind howling and rowing ahead us, my love... The echo of a new harsh winter like an unseen bitter creature filling the gaps between us - There is a strong cold wind ahead. Am I entitled call you 'my love'? This autumn feels too cold, too empty to bare this bare emptiness - These gaps between us like black doves too bold and unreal to hold. There are rows of black birds above. They shall never see each other's faces as they fly to foreign warm places, Whi