The Isle of the Dead


Hissing profound mist shrouds the boat
Creaking of oar is engulfed by the void
No sun in the sky - only dark cloud
Lap, lap... sways the water.

Boat rocks, carrying souls without hope
Their lifeless eyes stare at distance
Faceless ferryman smiles at these ghosts
Lap, lap... sways the water.

To the wordless song of a lost deranged psyche
Dances the stray melancholic spirit
Regretting suicides drown helplessly
Lap, lap... sways the water.

Endless cloud hangs from the sky
The sky glows red like a dull lead
Water reflects the bloodstained colour
Lap lap... sways the water.

Sun shines divinely far, far away
Life's transient memory beams through the rift
As souls cling onto precious old memories
Lap, lap... sways the water.

The faceless ferryman shatters the dream
His ruthless laughter echoes through the mist
Mist deepens its embrace - and everything's calm.
Lap, lap... sways the water...

Merciless one-way ferry soon ends its journey
Cold mist clears to reveal a black forest
Ferryman turns back, and all is veiled in mist...
Lap, lap... sways the water.



(Written on Sergei Rachmaninov's symphonic poem of the same title, which is based on Arnold Boecklin's paintings of the same title)


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