There's no glory in dying .
You just have to do your duty
and what is right for the soul .
Then you'll find rest under the big trees.
To fulfill one's life is to know how to leave .
Deguello is the dagger's sharp song
The melody of the muezzin on the Cordoba remparts ,
the ruddy spring quenching the thirst of the gods .
Men who despise rats and crows kill without hatred .
Those about to fall ,look each other in the eye
with the calm of acceptance .
After the deguello call none will survive
in the ruins of the monastery .
Fate of the sacrificed lovers of life
who will perish ...
Women who will give birth to generations
don't hear the trumpet of deguello .
It's a piece played for silent guys .
'' Son ,a mexican bayonet will pierce my heart
in this place dedicated to the lord ,whose name is Alamo ,
my spirit now at peace with the message of deguello ,
I'm going to join the green leaves of summer ! ''
o
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2024 08:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: aDarkerMind, Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments2
a huge round of applause comming your way;
Its only a heart that pierces the human condition !
Brilliant!
Thank you ! just sensitive ...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.