Maniaq

I sat upon grassy linen
Looking far into my thoughts
Among deep and dark forests
Lining a hazy grayish loch
And there inside foreshadow dealt
A vision to perception
A prophetic form of imagery
Manifest in shadows obscure

And destiny falls to ruin

No discourse but archaic filterings
Of black and cryptic signs
None helping a bleak understanding
Of things not yet to come
In the misty drizzle
Entranced to deep in mind
I saw an image foreboding
Of the world which rests outside

I saw a sea of tranquility
At rest in the arms of the storm

And destiny falls to ruin

Promyczek zloty

Wpadlas w me zycie jak promyczek zloty,
Co za szczescie, z wdzieku masz wiecej niz cnoty.
(Jan Sztaudynger)

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