1. |
Of Mere Being
03:59
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The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
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2. |
The Messenger
04:09
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I am the messenger,
Flown in again from very far.
I flew through the barrier;
I am the carrier.
No light on the northern sea,
The wounded moon, broken, buried there.
Honed in again on where you are
For I am the messenger.
I ring the warning bell.
My wounded breast bears a message there:
Along the Meuse, running parallel
They’re shooting down the messengers
Call me 'votre cher ami'
I guess I saved the day.
A wooden leg and a silver star,
And restful death for the messenger
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