Far on the open plain,

With no limit to the sky,

Where the life of sun is slain,

And its blood pours out to die.

It streams over the hill and dell

Bathing all in red

Shadows that fell

Beneath sun’s flowing head.

So the world is different.

Nothing’s the same.

A clear dream, a torrent

With full fiery mane

Is this the end?

Or only a birth?

Rejubilant death sends

its child forth in mirth.

And the world is different.

Nothing’s the same.

The fabric of dreams rent

In tatters that came

From the depths of time,

Stone-still for an instant,

An immoveable sign.

Life is not distant:

And here we resign.


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