Записки Безымянного [поэзия] - Тимонг Лайтбрингер

Другой

So you were born, a helpless man,Who would be strange for now and then,And who would not be understoodBy parents in his childhood,Who would soon start to feel as soHe's one of soldiers in the rowWithout mind, without heart,All struggling to escape this, but...But it will be in aftertime -And we return to what is prime.You were a child, small and funny,Who learned how to cry for mummy,Whose world was in her lips and handsWith no idea where it ends.But years passed, and you grew strong,And found soon that you were wrong,And found world ahead of youAlong with things, not much, not few,Along with men, all old indeed,Not knowing where it will you lead,Now knowing how you will soon feelIn being someone other's meal,In being someone other's toyAs they but mock and laugh in joy,For they have found you as "strange"When you appeared in the range,When you refused to play with them,When you showed no respect to Sam,When you was almost all aloneWithin your own thoughts and tone.Man-in-itself in all the aspects,Without need for fame and respects,Without wish to behave so...Not like a soldier in the row.Oh, boy, not soon you understoodThat it was not for bad, but good,That it was like a road's stoneFor no one said there would be none,For no one said there was no priceFor understanding of such size,For possibility to growNot sacrificing to The Row.You were the different, alone,For many others - road's stone,And by some person's wish for funYou were then called "another one".You tried to make them understandThat you could give a helpful handTo help them see the other sun …But they just laughed : "Another one!".You tried to help them feel as soThey are unique in the row -That's similarity you’ve fought,You tried to help ... they listened not.Another one you have becomeIn their eyes in days to come,In their endless wish for fun -Thus you have born, Another One!It would take many days to seeThat they were right, and to agreeWith their nickname of this kind,For you are now a man of mind,For you can now respect the others,For you can see them as the brothers,For you can distinguish them allThough they may look like bricks in wall.For you can help them see the sunWhen one of them is in the run,When one of them have not at allIntentions to be Brick in Wall.You've grown to the man of mind,There are few ones on your side -And even fewer who can growTo break one day that cursed Row.So now relax, and just have funIn being this ... another one.

Проснись!

 The Earth is cradle for the men ...But that is just the part of plan,For it has yet another side -The Earth is sleeping deep inside.And with the Earth sleeps humankind ...There is potential for mindThat was forsaken long ago,The man preferred to lay it low.That man preferred to fall asleep ...It now, like newborn, breathes deep,Yet knowing nothing of his kind,There is little use for sleeping mind.He has forgotten whom he wasAnd he has still so many foes,Who hunt for him in own dreams ...He's always victim - so it seems.He may believe in thousand things,To these beliefs he always clings,But there is yet the other side -He's sleeping deep, so deep inside.There are so many forms of sleep ...You'll have to make a quantum leapTo free yourself of dream's clutch,All what’s at stake - it's just too much.There are more than one wayTo end the night, to bring the day,To step past shade, becoming solar,To soar high, to fly as stroller.If you are victim - you shall suffer,Your tortures will become all tougher,And day will come, you faith'll be shaken -And from that pain you'll awaken.If you are stronger than the rest,If heart still beats in own chest,If heart is always full of fire -Than your solution is desire.Destroy your cage in own wakeAnd grow inside you what it takeTo shape your heart and mind in one,To dive in self, to dive for fun.Awaken now, awaken, sleeper !There is still time before your reaperWill take you out of this life ...Just throw away your fears, dive !If own fire will be litAnd on the paper it will feed,And for this guide in dire need ...Than it is yours - and so be it.

Зверь внутри

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide,And pain now serves as some sort of riteWith no means to heal the tortured soul …There is but no cure for things that are foul.No target to strike, no foe to fight …That doesn't look good, that cannot be right!And all of the might have too died within,It sank in the void and cannot be seen.Nowhere to go, no reason to live...Until it's gone you will never thrive,You might gnaw it through - yours life golden cage,But that'll only feed this beast's endless rage.You cannot escape, you may only hide,But this beast can wait - for he is your Pride,It may sleep for long in souls like sky,But he is eternal - and thus cannot die.You will once submit, you cannot resist,For will long have gone, for road always twist...It will be the greatest and fiercest beastFor ones lost in fog, for those lost in mist.And one day your eyes you will sacrificeTo obey his orders in search of a prize,You will start to live in dreams of your sizeOnce your foul Pride will be on the rise.Stop running for now, and face him alone -And face him in battle, face him being prone,Face him being poor, face him being rich,And have once the courage to lay him in siege!You cannot escape, you may only hide,But this cannot help - for he is inside.Once being awoken it will bite and tear,And what is the worst - he sleeps just so near…

Освободиться

Can you hear my voice? I shall speak of your choice,Of the bonds you've been given, of unreachable heaven,Of the freedom you've lost to become nameless ghost,Of the life you do live, helping prison to thrive.Can you hear me now? You are one in a row,Perfect soldier in all but to find own goal,But to follow your mind which is gone with a wind,And to find own path, being "I" and not "Us",Being one in a crowd, stepping your own roadAnd ignoring comment, that thus safety does end.One, who wants to break free, one, who wants to be man,Needs willpower to see - he's a slave now and then,Moving predefined ways, speaking his usual "nays",Watching all-common faces, racing other ones’ races.Never will slavery end, never will prison breakTill you find inner land - and the willpower you seek.Will you hear me now, being one in a row?It's your mind who'll break free - and one day that you'll see.

Огненный Меч

I have been given flaming bladeTo pierce night and fight with shade,And it is glowing with that fireThe source of which is my desire.It has seen war, it knows of peace,It chopped heads, it burned grease,And it executed swift death,For some it's curse, for others bless.It has severed diseased limbs,It has exposed others’ sins,It was a torch for ones in dark,Cut out exit to those stuck.It settled disputes in the world,It used to touch the right heart's chord,Its clang alone can make heart brave,And it is lost for those who rave.It is engulfed in the flameAnd thus can make its wielder lame,It brings uncommon sort of fameWhich clears heart and grants no shame.Yes, I can feel its heat in hands ...This blade has traveled many landsAnd many battles it has seen,Those armed with it destined to win.It's a reflection of a Word,Which always touches rightist chordAnd purifies its victim's heart ...Eternal justice, friend and guard.

Он внутри

He is inside, and he is within,He is enslaved and cannot be seen,He is alive, and yet he is dead,He is a joy, but now he is sad.You've searched beyond for millennia years,You've praised his name in your salty blood tears -And thus he became the punishment tool,And you have become a ritual fool.But still you all hope to see him one dayAnd listen to what this one has to say…He might and he would, he did and he does,Wrong place you search still where he never goes.But turn off your mind and let silence reign,And listen to what your heart would be saying …And then lost yourself - what did not exist,Your mind would be pure, your sight wouldn't twist.You'll hear the voice, silenced for so long,True part of yourself with such a strange tongue.For he is within, but rare to find...You'll know this one day -Your God is inside.

Я не пастух, я не лакей

I am a light in the darkest night,I am a stone on the road that is right,I am a mead in a sorrow's potion,I am but a tear in a life’s ocean.I am not one to follow,I am not one to blame,And my pass won't be sorrowed,Thus I don't feel ashamed.I am not of the chosen,I am not of the right -I am just but a mortalWho is simply not blind.And I don't see the future,And I can't alter souls,I am but a life's teacherWho has no selfish goals.And as long as I'm hereStanding fast, holding ground,You may not have the fearFor new life is around.All to see you are happyLightened ones, helping others,So one day in the long lastI can call you “my brothers”.

Человек Многих Имен

I don't know why I feel I amOnce lived through all of this - and thenI have forgotten who I was,Who were my friends, who were my foes,How I was called, and how I died ...This feeling does constantly bite,But still my memory is mist ...It's like I start with empty list.And yet some sparks of former lifeFeel very old the time I diveInto reflection of myself -And this makes squeeze my soul nerve.I feel I once had many names ...Are these but dreams, just madness games ?I might have gone completely mad,But these feelings long have bred.I worn them all, they were like clothesFor man with many names I wasAnd many faces I once had ...I am, no doubt, truly mad.How one can live the endless lifeAnd pass through death ... and still survive ?And still in times remember thatAnother own name he had ?They are all mine, I once were them,All these persons in the pram,Like were-man I always shift ...Is it a curse, is it a gift ?Is there is one beyond them allThat is my only truly goal,The one, who never had the name,The Nameless One ... are we the same ?I will remember once them allFor this is only worthy goal ...The time will come, I'll pass through flamesTo be the Man Of Many Names.

Не первый, не последний

One always speaks about selfWhether through action or just barf,But words may too have sort of price -They serve as tools for those who’re wise.Who am I then to speak of me ?From pain of past it makes you free,So now I'm throwing it aboard -My truly useless, bloody world.I may be warm, I may be cold,I am both fearful and bold,For some I'm moon, for others sun,From both I'm always in the run.I am quite normal and still mad,I am both happy and both sad,And during life's entire spanI will be known as no-one.And I can fight, and I can hide,I'm still so weak ... and full of might,I'm own master, own pet,Is it just good, is it so bad ?I am both known and unnamed,Inside I'm wild, but act like tamed,I am always free and yet enslaved,I'm used to speak the truth and raved.In times I'm kind, sometimes fierce,I was born there - and from stars,I am, like others, one of a kind,I'm often wrong, sometimes I'm right.If I had time I would but tryTo find the means to soar for sky,But first I have to reach just me -This kind of knowledge makes one's free.Of what I am, and who I was -I'll have to answer to all thoseSilented questions of my past ...I am not first, I am not last.

Один из Многих