In the glittering light of the winter moon – there he floats ...
the swan in his silvery gown.
His neck craned to sing the last song.
The song of eternity, of life ... of death.
Bravery be called the companion of the silver swan,
and his canto will be the last ...
listen – what an enchanting tone!
In the pale light of the moon there we listen to the song of eternity,
finally understand the fugacity of our being.
Softly the canto dies away ...
away ... away ...
Silent and still the lake now lays ...
no sound – no single blast.
There a single feather swims ... softly on the rippled surface,
a mere memory of life and its sense.
The sense of living and to enjoy it,
the sense of loving and to allow it,
the sense of taking life as it comes,
the sense of experiencing the sense of life ...
In a moonlit night softly sounds ...
the song of the silver swan!
the swan in his silvery gown.
His neck craned to sing the last song.
The song of eternity, of life ... of death.
Bravery be called the companion of the silver swan,
and his canto will be the last ...
listen – what an enchanting tone!
In the pale light of the moon there we listen to the song of eternity,
finally understand the fugacity of our being.
Softly the canto dies away ...
away ... away ...
Silent and still the lake now lays ...
no sound – no single blast.
There a single feather swims ... softly on the rippled surface,
a mere memory of life and its sense.
The sense of living and to enjoy it,
the sense of loving and to allow it,
the sense of taking life as it comes,
the sense of experiencing the sense of life ...
In a moonlit night softly sounds ...
the song of the silver swan!
January 9, 2009 - Copyright since 2009 - Tricia Danby
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