Don't play goldfish songs.
Do not carve memories of innocent souls in those calcareous rocks.
I count on silver spirits to save the moon.
I only trust the wolves to save the innocent child.
I believe. Soft fog and tender morninglight will never return.
The Valley of Deatch crawls through its dust.
I feel mild clouds, the everlasting white of eyeless angels; they flee to Enceladus.
Where are the vultures which will eat my ears?
I cannot stand those killing echoes.
It is this cruel conductor, a dark orchestra.
They play a medley of too harshly starving melodies.
In the Valley of Death, a creek seeks for a fresh existence, though unspoiled water is endangered.
I hear it. Now again.
That goldfish song.
Those rangers on red horses.
The muting sounds of happiness.
'Goldfish songs' is een gedicht uit de reeks 'Duim voor Dimitri'