Mists Above Moor
The eerie silver blue visage of the moon is only light besides camp fire
In the young hearts yarning for freedom fuels desire
Their courage is something to admire
It’s not easy to change blood to ice when in soul is burning fire
The dawn has arisen
Mist pale like fourth horsemen death looms on the horizon
Soon they will be fighting for new day new sun
The moor violet like the soul is not always hope beacon
And by God
It will be soon drenched in blood
Few partisans standing against enemy flood
The enemy bridge was just blasted
The fighting is hell evoking
Like runaway train there is no stopping
The wheels death are promoting
Yet many choose death over other fate in this time of spring
The spring in which sage has sweet smell
Yet air now smells like gates of hell
Many soldiers would fell
Then like by a spell
End to violence
Now the battlefield is in grave like silence
The blood drenched moor says the ballad of lack of balance
Balance of life and death price for freedom yet deaf are its audience
Many years later a monument stands
But no one remembers the name of partisan who died in those badlands
But as silent echo of pale mist once again covers the moorlands
The nameless solders’ soul earns a place perfect among true expands
Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2013
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