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My dear little sister, my closest friend

When I’m with you I beg for those times not to end

It’s by far too much fun.

If you’re upset or poorly or just gone round the bend

I’ll always be there when you’re needing a friend

Or punchbag :P



But mad violinist, I won’t always be

And when my song is over who’ll then sing of thee

And thy ways?

Be it any man other that dost new songs start

The he’s lucky to have you; in whole or in part

As I have been.



Til then we can share in our art and embrace

We’re luckier in this than most of our race.

Yes, we are!

I met you a child I watched you grow

To the wonderful woman I have come to know

And hopefully will for the rest of my days

‘cos I love thee, little sister, and so this ode says

Douleur au-delà de la mesure

Cela tourments de mon âme

Et me lie tous les serrée

Pour mes os



Traîné de chagrin d'amour au chagrin

Couper et a transpercé de toutes parts

Même si je pleure, je pleure mon âme

Et pourtant, je ne peux pas mourir



Ceux que j'aime; tous morts

Ennemis à, disparu depuis longtemps

Je serai fatigué

Dans ce nouveau monde étrange

Si aucune autre rappelle

Quel était et pourquoi

Je vous prie dieux te

Et les démons à

D'où trempé avec le nectar

De sweet lady liquer

Laissez-moi mourir!

You’re dead and you’re buried

But never forgotten

Thought the worms eat your visage

And your body’s all rotten

But you live yet my love

Beyond hurt, fear or pain

As by haunting my heart

A new life you have gained

For I know that you died;

Your own life you did take

And the life of our child

Yet unborn didst forsake

With my knife in your hand

And with pain in your heart

You didst cut deep your veins

And with this life depart

But you haunt my nights still

That you called out my name

Now your sweet gentle laughter

Sounds a mocking refrain





Was it really my fault?

Was'st I devil from hell,

That by loving thee darling

Dealt thee thy death-knell

My heart; it died with you

Now spirits depart!

For no man can live

With such ghosts in his heart.

If you’re reading my work

Then I guess you’re to blame

For these strokes of my pen

And my passions red flame

That my soul is departed

My hand so to free

That in elegant verse

I might now speak to thee



If my language you’d take

Just to mangle and maim

Then my spoken words mock

Without honour or shame

For your bastardised tongue

That would bear my tongues name

Then my insult you’ll bear

And my curse, mores the same!



If you don’t see my meaning

I’ll make myself clear

I am speaking English!

What do you speak my dear?

But a mongrel tongue fallen

From grace without dower

And I sneer at you now girl

For doubting the power

Of the well wielded tongue

For I’m English you see

Though my language you’d take

You shall not defeat me!