Blessed are those who mourn

At this withered age I've already learned
to read the signs of my weary heart,
of my monotonous, depressed and hurt
soul that weeps silently and longs to part


from this rotting world that has nothing to give
and verily has never had apart from
taunting and unwilligness to live
inside a cage crying for freedom.


And I went to the forest to wander among the trees,
silently watching their endless shapes
but the daylight was waning with a chilling breeze
and the dusk offered no cure for my pains


and thus I settled to return home
and set my slow drift beneath the trees
where the autumn wind shivered my old bones
and blew leaves of fall off from the canopies


Inside my chamber I enkindled the blazes
of candles that lighten'd my small library
and once again perused the wisdom of ages
from writings enscribed in the book of the prophesies


but alas! they only did worsen my nostalgia
by announcing the waiting for return of white Lord
and I felt the teardrops running down my pale cheeks, and yea,
I could stand no more, but run out through door
into darkness of night
with heart sore


Bewilderment and agony raged in my heart as I
ran through the gates of my yard with only thought
to reach to that place that had during the summer been my
only place of rest by the seashore where I had sought


relief from this yearning and rest from my languor so unsettling
but now a storm had arisen and sky was cloudburst
and thunderbolts struck through the night that was flaring
with the might of the storm but forthwith darkening worse


And I climbed to the top of a cliff by the sea's bank
and fell to my knees, praying that my life had been curtal
and desperately crying towards black skies I threw my hands
and bitterly cursed all that is mortal


Voi kuinka minun sieluni janoaa Sinua, elävä Jumala