By The Tree

So here is something I've never tried before. I took a classical piece of music and made a poem based on that music. Now, I should warn you the poem isn't exactly on the rythm and pace of the music, it's not a lyric people!. The best way to approach this is to first listen to the music and after that read the poem, maybe after that, you want to listen to the music again. Enough talking!

The best thing is to watch these two:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYl4Xb4cDQ8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=229MtHJRvUw&feature=channel

Based on: Symphony no. 9 – Dvorak.
By The Tree

 

A clouded sky over a green country.

Never again will there grow a tree.

A darkness over all the glee.

Never again the sounds of the merry.

 

How we hid in that shade

and the stories we made

under a sky so blue.

In the shadow we laid

and unknown prices we paid:

these stories would come true.

 

It has caught up with me:

The unforgiving fantasy.

How fires, ashes and dust grow

from my imaginative flow.

A revelation of relentless guilt

for the deathly chaos I built.

 

How I loved your face then.

Like you were already a woman

and I, a full-grown man.

I held your hands back when

we watched the sun rise in the morning

and later the moon would show its smile again.

 

How my smiles had such a high cost.

How your tears of joy would turn to dust.

Our stories so abruptly hushed,

for a love so young, so pure, it had no place for lust.

 

I still remember the last time.

to the top of the tree we climbed.

Where the adults would never find

The hidden treasure in our minds.

 

The stories of war we told.

Of our tongues the words rolled.

About heroes so bold

and villains so cold.

Creatures of the night.

Wizards in all their might.

Mounted on his horse the knight.

The black as well as the white.

Dragons, a fiery red.

Risen became the dead.

The enchanted forests,

no one dared to tread.

 

We told each other the tales

about the inns and their ales.

Whatever we deemed fit.

Unaware of the crime we would commit.

 

Then the first came to life.

It was the dwarf and his wife.

After that it happened fast.

The knights, wizards creatures of the night-

and the dragon came last.

 

A path of destruction the dragon left behind,

When down the tree we climbed

And burning houses was all we would find.

 

The creatures and heroes of good

ran, hopped,

jumped and galloped

after the creatures and minions of the bad.

But into the vile traps they were led.

Where their goodness was all they had.

 

It was that moment when I lost her.

Her memory is now a flower border

around my gravel and silt fantasy.

It has indeed caught up with me.

 

As dark clouds form fast,

from the way the dragon flies,

that left its trail of ash,

I catch a glimpse of the blue skies.

Even though it happens really fast

The blue of the sky makes me realize

Nothing is meant to last.

 

Not even

a clouded sky over a green country

Sometime again will there grow another tree.

Not even

a darkness over all the glee.

Sometime again there will sound the sounds of people so merry.