D E S E R T I A N A

At night, I cry and pray,
I burn a candle by my bed.
I set on fire the muted road
of sacred ruins,
a lone violet in my hand, blown in
by the blue wind…

I cry and tell my dreaming eye:
May you always bear the pain
of telling Good from Evil,
and may you be shut only
when I expire without a grave
and you rise again
as new dawn…

I pray that smiles stay
on infant lips forever,
like miracles in a dream…
I cry to spread faith
in fables and to make clowns
stop crying behind
their masks…

I pray that my hands remain clean,
with each grey hair on my head
a quest for absolution…
I do believe in the small blind dog
Waiting at its dead
master’s door…

For my toil steeped in this half loaf,
and for the missed days
lost in dreams,
tormented by my many sins
I pray at night
and I weep…

Varand
Translated By: Tatul Sonentz