Poēmia Bohemia

WHITHER MY WILLOW

I sleep past noon, head deep in the pillow

Rain on the roof and the wind does billow;

No will to rise since the death of Willow.

For more than thirty years we shared a bed,

Then from out of hell a stroke struck her dead.

Life ever since has been unliving dread,

Devoid of will I am locked in the past

Remembering the years that passed so fast

Me the vagabond and Willow steadfast

Always there for me at journeys end

My wife, my soulmate and best friend.

Now in death, did she ascend or descend

Rise to the sky or stay down in the earth

Is it oblivion as before birth

Or in realms unknown spiritual rebirth?

Knowing her eternal destination

Might bring about merciful cessation

To my own life sentence of damnation.

I do not expect an answer real soon

I do not expect the gods to commune

Thus I stay in bed till way past noon.


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