A Song of Lament

Books always bore me, they are full of lies,
I flip their pages as my spirit dies,
Inside, inside, I go deep inside
To a lonely place that the letters hide.

The images float inside my brain,
My heart is aching with familiar pain—
Too much corruption, I'm stuck in the mud,
My fingers long for a rose bud.

Tired of all the crap on TV—
My darling, are they blind or just can't see?
There's a violent storm I can't understand,
O darling, why can't I touch your hand?

I don't read the papers, I don't watch the news,
I hear they're dying from drug abuse,
They eat too much, they are overfed,
O darling, sometimes I wish I were dead.

Tired of hospitals, tired of pain,
Tits 'n' ass on TV are rotting my brain,
To hell with aesthetics and the flickering lights,
O darling, can I kiss you before I die?

They tell me I need psychotherapy,
There's something completely wrong with me,
They tell me, darling, that I look a mess,
O darling, why am I so depressed?

Look at them businessmen doing cocaine,
Look at them fucking in the lovers' lane,
Look at them running scared of AIDS,
O darling, why don't I ever get laid?

I'm crying, my love, lying in bed,
There's a stereo blasting inside my head,
O how much, darling, I long to be free!
Why can't you ever be close to me?

How long, tell me, will I have to cry?
When will I see a star in your eyes?
How long, darling, tell me please?
When will I ever be released?

There's a sorrowful silence inside your heart,
But this plastic world will not keep us apart,
Come, my belovèd, hold on to me tight,
There's a world of beauty deep inside.

Close your eyes and touch my hand,
And find yourself in your homeland—
This is a place you've always known,
A place where you've never felt alone.

Come, let us go there for a while,
Where a gentle wind can make you smile,
Where a fresh, cool water is bathing your face,
Where the sun and the moon welcome you in embrace.
 

                                      June 4, 1987
                                   --Alexander Shaumyan