On a journey, ill: my dream goes wandering over withered field.
Bassho
Since time began the dead alone know peace. Life is but melting snow.
Nandai
Breathing in, breathing out, Moving forward, moving back, Living, dying, coming, going — Like two arrows meeting in flight, In the midst of nothingness Is the road that goes directly to my true home.
Joined: 7 Jul 2014 Age: 124 Gender: Non-binary Posts: 34,220 Location: Out of my mind
15 Aug 2017, 12:51 am
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up the man they say murdered three Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up the man they say murdered three Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
A maid walked out one day, one day She met an aged man by the way His head was bald, his beard was grey His clothing made of the cold earthen clay His clothing made of the cold earthen clay
She said, "Old man, what man are you? What country do you belong unto?" "My name is Death - hast heard of me? All kings and princes bow down unto me And you fair maid must come along with me."
"I'll give you gold, I'll give you pearls I'll give you costly rich robes to wear If you will spare me a little while And give me time my life to amend And give me time my life to amend."
"I'll have no gold, I'll have no pearls I want no costly rich robes to wear I cannot spare you a little while Nor give you time your life to amend Nor give you time your life to amend."
In six months time this fair maid died; "Let this be put on my tombstone," she cried "Here lies a poor distressed maid All in her prime she was snatched away Her clothing made of the cold earthen clay.