Tinnitus
Through my slumber, the shadows are racing And churning apart each burgeoning dream, But one was hurt by the huntsman´s chasing, And yelling, it howls out its life.
Then the leadnote shrieking and the octave huming, Into the ear – cells and fluff it keens, Through nerve ends and joints it cuts like a knife Spirals down into the brain, then upwards shrills.
I wake with a start, my puls unsteady – The huntsman´s race in my mind ´s eye yet; I´m not a shade, I am not dead, But I am its scream, and the scream´s not spent.
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)
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