My Spectre Around Me Night and Day

My spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way.
My emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.

A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My spectre follows thee behind.

He scents thy footsteps in the snow,
Wheresoever thou dost go
Through the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again?

Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears
Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereaved of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears
And with cold and shuddering fears.

Seven more loves weep night and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright.

And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with wine my mournful head,
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions, great and small.

When wilt thou return & view
My loves & them to life renew
When wilt thou return & live
When wilt thou pity as I forgive

Never Never I return
Still for Victory I burn
And when dead l'll be thy Grave

Thro the Heavn & Earth & Hell
Thou shalt never never quell
I will fly & thou pursue
Night & Morn the flight renew

Till I turn from Female Love
And root up the Infernal Grove
I shall never worthy be
To Step into Eternity
And to end thy cruel mocks
Annihilate thee on the rocks
And another form create
To be subservient to my Fate

Let us agree to give up Love
And root up the infernal grove
Then shall we return & see
he worlds of happy Eternity

& Throughout all Eternity
I forgive you you forgive me
As our dear Redeemer said
This the Wine & this the Bread


William Blake

Nightmare of War

Again I wake, dream that wakes,
sweating and shaking me in my bed.
Nightmare that haunts like specter,
and I see it, frozen with dread.
Brown is crimson and lay the corpses,
my brothers, my sons, are dead.
But they have not gone apart,
they are living in my head.

Smoke has filled white morn with black,
where shells and bullets on living fell.
Whose body, arms, legs and stomach,
what to sew, no breath alive to tell.
All lay silent, not raising chest with pulse,
and where to bury bodies, I yell.
Sons of motherland fought with courage,
and pride that no ink could spell.

Amidst all the dead I stand,
piles of corpses, everywhere I see.
I repent loss of my brothers and sons,
but war is what stands between foe and me.
The sun must always shine,
and all the darkness must cease.
No blood shall flow,
and mighty as green be the peace.


Baleshwar Singh