The Wind Rose

If remembering is hopeless, then it’s time to resign But its easy to say, than to perform rightly Time shifts down slowly, crosses the final line And red turns to brown, showing its time to flee Who on earth now desires to die for a consideration Now art is for artists sake, they get rid of all Gods And what was achieved, is artificial machine of elation That's how it was rationalized by the contrived odds Draughty philistine hallways with nailed moose antlers What a tasteless design to be set over the door In the family genes howls the wind from the north angle Scattering up the papers around the parquet floor A southern wind shines on my best mondays The west wind tangles my words, makes me sit until late The eastern wind drinks my wine in the bleak sundays Puts me into condition I’m unable to formulate It should make a difference, but it doesn’t, if you surrender Or if you resist, no matter how, deep inside Or externally, like your own brave contender Who fights his shadow just for the sake of a fight Winds can blow away one life for fun Another's life they'll ignore and pass by Why dissent and argue, under this cool sun No contest comes from another day’s pale sky My wind rose is quiet sometimes, it patiently waits When the clouds of despair will seize me completely Then again I am back in that hall, to hear through the shades Someone's native voice, that sounded so sweetly.