The Shadow


George Cosbuc

The smoke of your burnt offspring will wind

Peacefully toward the skies

Only if you bear in mind

That when you go toward the sun,

Your dark shadow is behind.

A silent slave who the grim lord

Summons with a silent gesture,

He takes heed, humble and awed,

Of the slightest beckoning,

And keeps track of everything.

He's your devoted slave when your flight

Is directed to the sun;

He doesn't feel pain, he's out of sight;

Your forehead is surrounded by holy rays,

And you advance in light.

But your shadow counsels ill

When you leave the sun behind;

He will cloud your eyes until

Your keen sight become purblind—

He is nothing but ill-will!

Shadow, sun, shrine, smoke, and glow!

My story is no good, unless

You have understood it. So—

You may decide! You are just starting out;

I have been long on the go.

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