- Small. A speck in the wide blue sea.
|
'Tis the last of all the land.
|
A dweller upon our lonesome isle,
|
the last, lonely man? -
|
|
- Oh weary night, under stars,
|
he'd often lay and gaze.
|
Up towards the moon and stars.
|
The suns dying haze.
|
|
Time again, Orion's light
|
filled our man with joy.
|
Within the belt, he'd see his love,
|
remembering her voice -
|
|
- Such is life upon the isle,
|
of torment and woe.
|
One day good. One day bad.
|
And some days, even hope.
|
|
The light at the end of the world
|
burns bright for mile and mile
|
Yet tends the man, its golden glow,
|
in misery all the while?
|
|
For fifty years he stands and waits,
|
atop the light, alone.
|
Looking down upon his isle
|
the Gods have made his home -
|
|
- A deity felt sympathy
|
and threw our man a light
|
'Your woman you may see
|
again, for a single night. -
|
|
- 'I'll tend the light, for one more night
|
with the woman whom I love',
|
screamed the man, with tearful eyes,
|
to the deity above.
|
|
And so it was that very night
|
his lover did return.
|
To his arms and to their bed,
|
together they did turn.
|
|
In deepest love and lust for a while
|
entwined they did fall.
|
Lost within each other's arms
|
they danced (in lover's ball). -
|
|
Her hair, long and black,
|
The dark, beauty of her eyes,
|
Olive skin and warm embrace,
|
her memory never dies.
|
|
Agony, like none before,
|
was suffered by our man.
|
(who tends the light now burning bright
|
on the very last of land.)
|
|
Anger raged and, and misery too
|
like nothing ever before.
|
(He cursed the Gods and man and life,
|
and at his heart he tore.)
|
|
His sacrifice was not so great,
|
he insists upon the world.
|
Again he would crime, Again he would pay,
|
for one moment with the girl
|
|
- Long was the night filled with love.
|
For them the world was done.
|
Awoke he did to brightest light,
|
his woman and life had gone.
|
|
To his feet he leapt. To the sea he looked.
|
To the lighthouse on the stone.
|
The price is paid and from now on
|
he lives forever alone.
|
|
Fifty years have passed since then
|
and not a soul has he seen.
|
but his woman lives with him still
|
in every single dream.
|
|
'Tis sad to hear how young love has died
|
to know that, alone, someone has cried.
|
but memories are ours to keep.
|
To live them again, in our sleep.-
|
|
-----------------
|
The Light At The End Of The World
|
| My Dying Bride |
