A bloated throat wake me up this morning Some uncanny resonance with a flash Mephistopheles at your doorstep. Oh, Faustus!
Leave those scattered contention, Remnants you found within
Wriggle your path by those thick evenings Those penetrating rumination,
Those affable agonies vaccinated into my soul “I hate life being caged”, you said. Oh, Doyen! Those exasperated thoughts, hefty forebodings
You traded your days for grasping inspiration The unheard whispers, the clenched up faces, The worn-out fatigue, the palsied rage
The emotions to switch between. Oh, Master! The world you gave your own translation.
Some covetous landlord, an appalling life, A vindictive widow or a self-deluded man A cob-webbed relation with grey eyes
Coveting shadow dreams. Oh, Swashbuckler!
You captured with discarded strife
Flowering reflection of yours furnished my valise And made my perception pregnant with musing.
Valediction with sackcloth and ashes,
With a dominion of spirit and impregnable soul, oh, Artisan!
Thou now rest in peace.