A Love Song To Death

 

I who speaks to you, friends from the end of time, I am over, here is the end of life. I wanted, what a joke! to raise myself to the gods my masters! Believing myself all-powerful, I saw myself equal to the Goddess, I who can not untie her sandals. I did not climb very high, but I went deep below. To make matters worse, I lost my magic bracelet. Without it, I am nothing.

All gods wear such a bracelet. Without him, one has no more name, no more credit, no more existence. We are not treated when we are sick, we do not receive food, clothing or fuel for the spationef. Can not find accommodation, travel, fun. The sacred bracelet allows to live like the gods. Without him, we live like a dog. That’s my lot. Dog life than mine, or worse: an orc life! Thyann the hunter my father – they call him Jared – liked to tell stories while smoking his pipe weed. He heard we had Orc blood in our veins. By some ancestor, no doubt. Is this true, or is it just smoke from the dream?

I thought I was at the bottom of the abyss, and finding myself at the helm of a mercury space jet made me a hundred and twenty. I started the methodical exploration of the Alcor system planets. I knew Wahn a little, where I had spent many years in the shoes of a hangman. So I headed for the nearest planet: Avalhom, a land of spells. I never did it. My jet pierced the hyperluminous space where I saw hatching bursts of colors. The light spiraled around the fuselage, while time, suddenly motionless, brought the extremes closer together and erased all relief. It seemed to me that my body swelled like a balloon, a whale in which I felt lost, like Jonah that one of these big fish spat out once on the land of Lemurs.

The big fish spit on me too. I came out of my deep sleep in the midst of an assembly of repulsive creatures. Their vivid smell was appalling. It was a horde of blue orcas eating men. It was impossible to understand how I found myself in such poor company, and I searched in vain for the beautiful beaches of Awalhom, where the most beautiful creatures that can dream are bathed all naked. Instead, I had in front of me the stinking spectacle of a herd of subhumans rolling their hungry eyes towards me. They were approaching. Their smell has become motrtelle. The urge to vomit grabbed me, but I could not. I wanted to run away, my legs were dead under me. One of them rotated. By the Goddess, what a reminder! I lost consciousness by inhaling this asphyxiating gas. It was then that they threw themselves on me to devour me. Enough to wake a dead person!

Yes, they chewed me, they masticate, they drooled, they swallowed me. They devoured each of my fingers, each of my toes, my nose, my ears, my penis and my balls, by Hathor, what a big bunch of bloody bastards! They chewed me to the core, breaking my bones to suck the marrow, grazing my white hair, they have not even respected my organs. Orcs deserve a thousand deaths for their crimes. I did not feel any pain when they devoured me. Just hate. A very small voice, distant, forgotten, cried in the depths of my memory. I need some time, then I recognized the voice of the child I have been. Crying, the tiny voice chanted, shouted, till the Goddess heard it. Hathor chose the child that I was, she looked after him, opening every door … to bang them all in front of him.

Where is this body that she promised me? Now I’m dead, I do not need any body anymore. But I need somebody. I’m dead but I’m hungry. I see the long table set before me, I see succulent food, erect dishes, very fragrant, whose aroma makes me faint with desire. Eat !! That’s all I want. Feel on my tongue the taste of salt, sugar, bitter and acid. To regain the sublime enjoyment that seizes the mind when the belly is well filled. Go gently lying down on a soft layer of foam to make it sweet on behalf of all. Gently we slip from sleep to a sensual wakeup, an Eros’ nap for a sated stomach. A hungry stomach is hard of earing only, a satiated belly is hard everywhere. She was waiting for me. She welcomes me to her paradise. I am dead and by the grace of her body full of life I know the supreme ecstasy.

Who needs a body to live with? Who needs the material world to enjoy and flourish? The dead also make love, my darlings. To be dead is one way to lead one’s life. It is a very respectable choice. Many have done it, many others will do, especially among humans. The gods did not allow us to live long. They only gave us 120 years of life, Hathor told me so. It is fixed forever, it is planned, it is so. 120 years old? Nonsense and ballyhoo! I lived a thousand and a hundred. Death finally, here I am on the other side of life. And life goes on like it did before! The surprise is big. I left life without rancor, my teeth will never hurt again. (source) Although …

Whoever loses his arm suffers from this dead arm as if he were still there. Whoever loses his body still has physical desires, to eat, to cuddle, to drink, to breathe, to walk. All these little things that are the magic of life, do we have to give it up? Should we forget them? The other world is the mirror of it. I will go through. We can come back from the dead. I make it my new challenge. My flesh has dissolved in the belly of the orcs, I am orc. If I come back it will be in an orc body.

By Hathor mi amor! I’m dead, yet I’m living still. Toy of the powerful, pleasure of the big ones, I became small, I was finished, my heart bare, finally I am no more. Now I am alive, manly just as before. Great prodigies have made my bed, what feasts will make my doom?

In a great Greek fire that leaves me blind, I hear the echo of an oliphant resonate. A divine voice falls from the ink-black sky. Then everything is clear, it’s the Goddess! Full of love and tenderness, she comes to me singing the sweet hymn she composed for me. Hathor, my Queen, my Goddess! Hathor, my lost love … Alas! I am no longer. Already you are fading away …

 

hathor-dtr-oasis-688po

 

 

The ballad of Hathor

(source)Sergio Figallo

I

Enoch, sing me your song.
Whisper in my ears words of human love.
Instead,
I will let you know the Creation.
Even when love flows in the Universe
Because of my grace,
You make it happen every single day.
Hold me in your arms Enoch,
You have done with humans through the eras.
I want to know how it feels.
Sing me your song, Enoch,
Let me sit by your side.

II

Sing with me Hathor,
Let us sing together.
Be my companion.
Watch over me.
I want to hold your hand and walk under the moonlight,
As we did on earth.
I will blow the gentle wings of a butterfly
Into your hair.
I will wait for you till the end of time
And play a lute while you rest by my side.

III

Bring Vincent’s starry night,
There is a concert in heaven.
A baroque and triumphal trumpet sounds.
Hathor sees her face in the calm water of a lake.
Enoch has been busy and tired
And have not noticed her.
Come back Enoch, she says.
I am here!
Do not you see me?
Can not you see me?
Please Enoch, remember.
You must remember.

IV

Sadly, Hathor took her feet out of the water,
while Enoch looks the trembling reflection of the night.
He washes his face and arms.
He has been working hard.
Hathor scream deeply inside:
Why of these humankind?
I am a Goddess goal,
Will he see me again?

V

Enoch likes to stay at night under an open sky.
He tries to read words in the stars.
He is alone and empty.
It is cold and the trees are naked.
A last leaf fall down with a soft sound.
How strange, Enoch says.
I felt like someone’s waves in the distance.
Wake up Enoch!
Come on.
Carry on.

VI

Take my heart Enoch,
feel its weight.
Each beat is a human soul.
I have got them all.
Did I really get them all?
This is my only goal,
I asked you to help me.

VII

And I knew you were seating in the lake.
You could not read my mind.
That is all we can feel and take
for this time.
Turn our eternal hide and seek.
Can’t you hear the echoes in the labyrinth of your mind?

VIII

(lack: missing text)

IX

Here is my song Hathor:
“The Moon has left the sky frozen to the Sun,
who extends its rays in a prolonged yawn.
The trees are orange trying to warm up.
The Moon appreciates its mischief,
picking up its blue and deep cloak “.

 

 

Homer deserved to be driven from the contests with a stick, and similarly Archilochus.
Heraclitus