A new poem. This one I picture the narrator being a very old man, sitting by the window watching the sunrise. He’s telling it to a young man, possibly his grandson, possibly a grand-nephew. And of course he’s speaking metaphorically about his own death. Or is he? The melody is melancholy, and haunting.
Far, far away,
By the shores of the sea,
The wind blows below the town.
The wind blows for me.
Far, far away,
Where the wind blows cold,
There’s a castle by the sea,
Where no one grows old.
Far, far away,
Where the sun starts to rise,
There’s a light and a hope
Far beyond mortal eyes.
Far beyond mortal eyes,
Far beyond mortal thought,
Where the cold wind blows,
And the sun shines hot.
There I left my love
In the city by the sea.
And though I have grown old,
I know that she still waits for me.
She still waits for me,
And her heart’s still young.
But I have grown old,
And all my songs are sung.
Sing for me again.
Sing a song of young love.
And my heart shall flee to her,
On wings like a dove.
On wings like a dove,
To see her once again,
To circle the sunrise
And we’ll fly free once again.
This, that, and the other thing 