the childhood of light

I cried a long time this morning I pictured a quick escape route But a ghoul from the tales of the past swallowed the road Between me and the happy man the war has not begun I will always blow on her pine image To remain straying from home And I will stand as an earthen barrier In the middle Between life and me Don't look where your soul went then As if you are convincing the dry branch to extend its hand to you While it clings to the severed trunk And says I have no hand Waiting for the thunder to write your rebellious voice To make this whistle come out of your head Like you I hate my head and will never believe again in the childhood of light