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Death of Lightning

An envoy riding fast, inclined,
Holding the reins, looking resigned
Comes from afar and grows so tall
That the horizons now are small
And many ravens fly behind
Like a black wall.

The king will get an answer sore
From the war camp, to hurt his core;
For in his cloak he hides some stuff,
The best of heroes, bold and tough,
And when he lays him on the floor
It's been enough!

Lightning is dead! Killed by a beast
On foreign banks, there in the east.
His lovely garment white appears,
But blood is dripping like red tears
And the bare chest of the deceased
Is full of spears.

The poor old king, watching his son,
Barely believing he's that one
Is caught by fear, his mouth is dry,
He cannot speak and looks awry
Clenching his fists, wishing to run
Like a lost guy.

Lightning is dead, who rode the waves?
How was he killed by wicked knaves
When his strong arm did never miss
And grasped the lightning full of bliss?
How die the rascals if the braves
Perish like this?

Tomorrow will the earth survive
And all the things will grow and thrive?
When you can't see in anyone
Your handsome boy, who was such fun,
Why should you care to stay alive
Oh, holy sun?

Poor gentle queen has lost her light
And with her hair disheveled, white,
Runs through large bedrooms asking why,
Cursing all rascals in reply,
The palace now is filled with spite
And bitter cry.

She's very skinny, walks with care,
Her violet eyes are sad and bare;
This awful pain she cannot stand
Her voice is weak, she's pale like sand
And soon her clothing she will tear
With her own hand.

Whom shall I cherish as before,
For whom to cry down on the floor,
When I can't sleep at all at night
To hear the horses with delight
And then to open wide the door
To hold you tight!

I will not leave the one I crave!
Put us together in his grave
Oh, Lightning, will you let me die?
You let your parents mourn and cry?
Take them with you, for you are brave,
Take them on high!

Oh, mother! You are old and frail!
Your voice is weak, you cannot wail;
You arms aren't strong to break the lead
And bitter tears you cannot shed
You're not a fire, so you'll fail
To warm the dead!

And you, who always burned to fight
Lie now extinct and lost your might!
Can't hear the trumpets, for you failed
Can't see us all with faces veiled
You laughed at Death both day and night
But He prevailed.

A round bread lies upon your chest,
Instead of mace, it's not a jest,
They gave you candles now to hold
With your right hand, which was so bold,
And in your left will coldly rest
A coin of gold.

Along your way the candles light
The trails that look so black at night
All things around in mourning seem
The coin's the toll to cross the stream
And the round bread you have in sight
Is not a dream.

In silver coffin now you lie,
You're fully armed, for in the sky
You'll be a fighter, not a swan,
And when in glory there you dawn
The sky will tremble, for to God
You will be gone.

Astonished, trembling at their place,
Seeing your stately battle face
Will stop the angels from their feast;
And blinded by the light released
The sun will definitely race
Back to the east!...

And when the funeral was done
Your long-dead fellows, one by one,
Came to your grave, their love to bring,
And people gathered in a string
To mourn the most beloved son
Of a great king!

The priests a lot of incense spread
And from their books long prayers read
And there were bells, and cry and cloaks,
And warriors who liked the strokes
And servants, princes, all well-bred,
And common folks.

And his poor mother! How she sighed
And cursed and struggled hard and tried
To jump inside the gloomy grave:
They took my son, so good and brave,
Now, I'm awake, my dream has died
In vain I crave!

What trail do falcons leave behind?
And all the fish in sea confined?
If you are big and don't feel pain
Or if you're smaller than a grain
Our path is surely predefined
And it is vain!

For what you are and what can be
Are just some notions, you're not free,
If you die young or old and gray
If you die glad or in dismay
It is the same! For as you see
We go away!

I want with Lightning to remain!
Oh, God is ruthless in His reign,
He always envied my sweet bliss
And wished that I would choose amiss
For God is pagan, I maintain
I'm sure of this.

Why should I trust in what He gave?
Before His eyes all have a grave,
If they are good, if they are bad
No one is angel, no one mad
Love is just wind, faith is a wave
And life is sad!

Her words were spiteful and severe
The people crossed themselves with fear
And pitied her for such disgrace
But an advisor left his place
And stopped in front of her, but near,
To watch her face.

A saint that makes you feel appalled
He barely hears when he is called:
Old as the time, a gentle sage
Born when the world came on the stage
And seeing him they all recalled
The ancient age.

And on his staff leaning a while
He raised his brows with a sad smile,
Then, with his voice, gentle and shy,
He said as softly as a sigh:
My dearest nice! This is your trial
In vain you cry!

But when you're making such a fuss
You break the heart in all of us
We suffer for your wretched fate,
But even more to see your state;
So let us better to discuss
Please, curb your hate!

At sunset, when the sun is gone,
Why should you cry to see his crown?
It's better to look down the trail
And watch your step lest you should fail!
He is not dead, so do not frown
For will prevail.

The guys I knew I can't recall
And people wouldn't care at all,
Since childhood I have raised my hand
With Whirlwind king new battles planned
And I know Blizzard, mad and tall,
Like his whole land.

Such people we don't have today,
But all of them have gone away.
They had a calling I evoke
And to the ground fell like an oak;
Yet, no one wept trying to stay
For life is smoke.

What, smoke? O, no, they got it wrong
It is a war fought by the strong
Life is a duty, not a game
The cowards fear it, what a shame!
They want possessions all along
And to get fame.

Why should you wonder what is life,
So do the people full of strife.
Those who are good don't have such claims
To know the death and shun its games
Because the cry is a sharp knife
Only for dames.

Live on, milady, do no fear!
Don't try to cross the death's frontier!
Some kings have pushed the world ahead,
But they don't die in their bed,
Who cares they're killed by a long spear
And now are dead?

I know a thing that is above
The words I've said to you thereof:
The faith in afterlife, I say,
Is our power of today,
For all the things fly like a dove
And die away!

Maybe our heart is sad and black
But it is wrong to turn our back
To Him who keeps us all alive!
Maybe in life we toil and strive,
But we should overcome the lack,
Be tough and thrive!

She then stopped crying at this stage
But hardly saw the prudent sage
His words did vanish in the air,
Because she saw the coffin there,
As in a dream, a whitish cage,
And felt despair.

Her eyes were dry, around she scanned,
She saw the men and ladies stand
And looked around, immersed in pain,
Trying so hard to ascertain.
And yet she didn't understand
And fought in vain.

A thought crossed quickly through her mind,
To laugh out loud she was inclined
Seeing the people pray around
A pit dug deep into the ground,
Such lunatics must be confined
For they abound...

The bells were tolling all along
Their wailing sound was grave and strong
And in the pit, may seem absurd,
The falling of the earth was heard
As an impressive holy song,
Which wonder stirred:

Don't try to understand these laws
For you are mad if grasp the cause!
If from a tree you break a twig
The forest doesn't care a fig!
So why the world would care because
My grave they dig!

poem by George Coşbuc, translated by Octavian Cocoș
Added by anonym
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