I’m just a drunkard. I am seduced
By a luminescent blue wine, a mere illusion
That a burst of spring has induced.
In my heart and my future destination
I sing with joy and without cares
A song well suited to a solemn procession
And then I sing of triumphs with fanfares
And harmonize with rhythm any joyous occasion
Even if life my mad soul should batter,
I shall still strum my simple chord
No hands shall pluck me, nothing will matter.
My heartstrings shall throb of their own accord.
When death’s hand with quiet cruelty,
Tears asunder my song-filled breast
And turns me into dust for all eternity,
My song will resonate without rest.
And again and again, in my astral wanderings
I will my longings for harmony fulfill
With cascading musical outpourings
And the simple joy of a tiny trill