A godlike thing you are oh Death,

A squall who comes on stormy wings;
A blood red lotus grown on lethe,
You are the final resting bed.
And this my passionate plea to you,
My troubled passions tear away,
To taste thy nectar gift unafraid.

Give voice O Death, is your name God?
Your blackness reminds of our Shyama lord,
Although He never touched upon
My thoughts, mistress to you alone.

Springs shall pass, and renown be lost,
But Death shall always near me be,
My playmate, my shelter, my second self:
Come, Eternal, cleanse my pride.

A poem...

Tears uncounted have I cried,
Heavy sighs of hurt have sighed,
Teardrops sliding down my cheek,
When, loveless, have I loving seeked;
Although those tears have now run dry,
That oozed anew at every cry,
The scars remain where they ran down,
Like the wrinkles when I frown.
And still there's ringing in my ear,
Like from the time when I could hear
Shouts and scuffles, slaps and groans
Of others; and sometimes mine own.
Echoes resound of that past life,
Full of anger, full of strife;
The empty echoes in my heart
Jump to my throat with sudden start,
And choking tears run down my nose,
Down bent chin and to my toes.
Those teardrops sad, those echoing halls
Still reside in me and call
Me back to when I could not know
To tell apart which bruise, what blow.
Were they real? But truer more
Are those bitter tears that tore
Apart the child who is now dead,
His thoughts are as yet in my head.
To scars and bruises I am blind
For they are tricks of eye and mind;
But every drop of anguished tear
In my grown heart I do hold dear,
They are the truth of what I feel,
The evidence of my appeal
To free the past, and free to roam
Without that place I once called home.

JLPT

Alright, so I finally got my JLPT admit card from my teacher. (That's Japanese Language Proficiency Test for the uninitiated.) Not very confident on my second innings, I have to say. Of course, I had thought that way about last year's exam as well.