They await, bare posts,
Seven heads in seven ropes.
Glittering in a morning sun,
Under a quiet, blue-painted sky.
He looks unafraid, and he,
And she as well,
and she,
and she.
Voodoo? Their calm troubles the crowd.
So yell and spit to drown the sound,
The fearful sound of guilty fear.
'Their breath has the taint of hell itself! '
So stop their mouths! And shut those eyes!
Those eyes pure and all alight.
For might their prayers call Heaven down
To curse these men who call wrong right?
'God forbid! '
Yes, God forbid.
The pastor breathes in long and deep
And trembling, halting says a psalm,
Makes a prayer to ward off harm.
'Curse all witchcraft! Lord God help us! '
Amen.
May the Lord God help us.
Oh help us and erase the spot
Of a crime that wont be washed,
That wont be washed by tithes and tears.
The time has come.
Seven heads in seven ropes,
Seven deaths to all our hopes.
Oh let them jeer.
Oh let them stare and all
Their words fade into air.
The cool breath of Eternity.
Silence.
Blow, strange wind, blow and still
Those seven heads will not awake.
Blow and still their bones wont make
New men or make a cold heart warm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem