land of hills and fog,
moss covered forest and a
cottage in the dark
Please, oh please, lamenting weep,
please, don’t take my baby from me.
Within the woods and through the trees,
on the hills, I’m on my knees.
Please don’t take my baby from me.
Frigid sweat runs down her forehead
and she whimpers from her shivering chest.
Tried my best to sing her to sleep
but there is blood in these lullabies.
Her coughs are like shattered glass from her throat,
and her painful wails in these walls echo.
And though I wish this was all a dream,
I heard from the woods the old rallying cry.
I lie on the bed and clutch my child
and pray her soul keeps clear of the wild.
I bridle my tears so her armour’s not weak,
though in my heart it’s becoming a lie.
Please, I beg you, don’t take her away,
she was only just born the other day.
Let her step on the stones, let her be free,
let her remain, keep her alive.
Please, oh please, lamenting weep,
please, don’t take my baby from me.
Within the woods and through the trees,
on the hills, I’m on my knees.
Please don’t take my baby from me.
-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
The harbinger of death
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