Night's cry

Written by: George Zamalea



What I have done?
When the distance of the lusty killing 
	Or the thing he has touched, the hours that brazen
On the peak of this wind's falls, the beauty
	Thought which I was still sleeping 
With pain I could feel, you're still walking 
	The wounds upon the strangled memory I hold,
All become so unhealthy, implored, and hard to swallow.


What I have done?
For many who have dreamed or were just drifting
	The treasure of living up into the exhaustless dawn, 
The brave word I loved or it never was.
	How could I fail if I am the same bloody
Soul you have made me to believe on you?

	Tell me, dear morning, or you dying evening,
For what I fell by giving you all my love, 
	I've failed to feel you after you have disappeared!
Shall I say these is love, fondled declaration,
	Or just the denial of man's things.

	What a good for it when at every dream I have been
Or the waves I watched through the window of the night
	And now, the holy light of this day blinded me
And surpassing me what I felt all have already gone!
		Tell me, please, what I have done?