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Writer's pictureMezei Csaba

Prophets



My legs have been shaking since yesterday.

I am sorry Lord, I am just a castaway.

Sure, bring me your sorrows,

Bring me your sorrows.


Hard as it is. Bleak day indeed.

Would you give up your soul for this terrible deed?

Would I give it up?

I would give it up.


Bring the child, let him emancipate

Free me from my slavery,

Moses, show me my promised place

Will I see the Promised Land?

I will see the Promised Land.


Roar, run and rumble

Inside my heart everything stumbles

Am I the chosen one?

I am the chosen one.


Will I see for what I give up my soul?

Maybe you will fill my empty corpse

Hold me high and praise my name.

Hold me and praise my name.


At dusk was when I saw the fire.

Lighten up in front of me.

A warm, calm voice I heard.

Tomorrow I will die, the saviour will I be?

I will be the saviour. Tomorrow I will die.


My legs shake, Lord, am I ready?

Just a castaway is all I am.

And everyone brings me their sorrows.

Bring me their sorrows.


I will, my Lord, the greater good.

I will let my body be torn apart.

I will be called crazy, nail me to the cross.

I will be the saviour. I will be the saviour.


This is my descent into madness.

Moses, Muhammad, Noah, Abraham

Paul, Peter, John the Baptist.

I will join the great Lord’s army.


A greater burden than life itself.

Such a great task lies ahead.

I am sorry, father and mother, my loved ones.

I must go, my duty awaits me.


Now my legs are not shaking!

Let the coronation commence!

Name me prophet, saint, king!

...


I stop for a heartbeat...

In this world? Save this? Hearts with no heat?

Reeking of filth, I am disgusted.

Do you see hope in this world?

I see hope in this world.


I created it.


Mezei Csaba XI. H


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