Desire - Dark Angel Bird (A Poet Of Tragedies)

Through the night... All night long...

A tragic croaking can be heard...

The voice of an angel keeps calling...

An angel with a bleeding soul is falling...

Dark Angel of melancholy

I am a cold tear of misanthropy

Dark Angel of suffering

I'm an angstfull whinning

You rant poems of pain

In a bitting elegy

Deep red is the color

Of your boundless agony

Dark Angel of melancholy

I am a cold tear of misanthropy

Dark Angel of suffering

I'm an angstfull whinning...

An angstfull... An angstfull whinning...

Dark Angel Bird...

The sadness in your chant

Is my own grief

A mournful melt of tears

Which arises as nightfalls

In your eyes... I behold the eyes of a soul

A soul with a bleeding heart

And nobody's love

My existence depends on yours

My... My soul is as yours

For... For you I cry

In the cold bare night

Take me beyond infinity

In your moonlight wings

I want to cry out a last scream

I want to fall asleep and dream

I am... I am the Dark Angel Bird... A poet of tragedies...

I am the Dark Angel Bird... I am the Dark Angel Bird...

Scratch with your deadly claws

Pounce well on, on my chest

Burial ground for autumnal invocations

Sanctuary for a broken love

Selfless I call for you

My soul bleeds for yours

For you I die... For you I die...

In the cold... In the cold... In the cold bare night

In the cold bare night... In the cold bare night...

Anjo de coração ferido

Como é triste o fim...

Sentir-me perdido

Morrer dentro de mim...

Das Aussterben (III)

From Test of Twins by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman (but this time I don't feel like Raistlin)

    Raistlin drew closer. Kneeling down upon the still-warm ashes, he turned the figure over.

    "Crysania," he murmured.

    "Raistlin?" Her face was horribly burned, sightless eyes stared into the emptiness around her, she reached out a hand that was little more than a blackened claw. "Raistlin?" She moaned in agony.

    His hand closed over hers. "I can't see!" she whimpered. "All is darkness! Is that you?"

    "Yes," he said.

    "Raistlin, I've failed-"

    "No, Crysania, you have not," he said, his voice cool and even. "I am unharmed. My magic is strong now, stronger than it has ever been before in any of the times I have lived. I will go forward, now, and defeat the Dark Queen."

    The cracked and blistered lips parted in a smile. The hand holding Raistlin's tightened its feeble grasp. "Then my prayers have been granted." She choked, a spasm of pain twisted her body. When she could draw breath, she whispered something. Raistlin bent close to hear. "I am dying, Raistlin. I am weakened past endurance. Soon, Paladine will take me to him. Stay with me, Raistlin. Stay with me while I die. . . ."

    Raistlin gazed down at the remains of the wretched woman before him. Holding her hand, he had a sudden vision of her as he had seen her in the forest near Caergoth the one time he had come close to losing control and making her his own-her white skin, her silken hair, her shining eyes. He remembered the love in those eyes, he remembered holding her close in his arms, he remembered kissing the smooth skin....

     One by one, Raistlin burned those memories in his mind, setting fire to them with his magic, watching them turn to ash and blow away in smoke.

Reaching out his other hand, he freed himself from her clinging grasp.

     "Raistlin!" she cried, her hand clutching out at the empty air in terror.

     "You have served my purpose, Revered Daughter," Raistlin said, his voice as smooth and cold as the silver blade of the dagger he wore at his wrist.  "Time presses. Even now come those to the Portal at Palanthas who will try to stop me. I must challenge the Queen, fight my final battle with her minions. Then, when I have won, I must return to the Portal and enter it before anyone has a chance to stop me."

     "Raistlin, don't leave me! Please don't leave me alone in the darkness!"

      Leaning upon the Staff of Magius, which now gleamed with a bright, radiant light, Raistlin rose to his feet. "Farewell, Revered Daughter," he said in a soft, hissing whisper. "I need you no longer."

Das Aussterben (II)

-Como prossegue a guerra Joachim?
-Conseguimos repelir mais um ataque contra a fortaleza mas isto está a ser cada vez mais dificil.
A batalha por Nord Vale prosseguia há varios meses e cada ataque apenas mais um teste aos defensores. Cada ataque mais uma pedra ruia. Em tempos os defensores tentaram sair da fortaleza e atacar mas fora um ataque louco. Os invasores eram mais numerosos e poderosos. Ganhariam a batalha ou por ataques consecutivos ou apenas por esperar que os defensores caissem.
-porque não atacam eles e acabam connoso de uma vez? - questionou o outro soldado para ninguém em particular.
Pensando que seria para ele Joachim respondeu:
-Também tenho pensado nisso. Eles são mais numerosos e facilmente conquistariam esta fortaleza. Eu acho que se nos conquistarem acabam com aquilo que os define. Eles conquistaram tudo o que havia para conquistar. Somos os ultimos que estamos de pé. Se nos conquistarem eles proprios podem ser destruidos por guerras interiores. As varias facções iriam guerrear entre elas até nenhuma sair victoriosa e auto-destruirem.
O Outro soldado olhou atentamente para ele e abanou a cabeça.
-Talvez seja isso. E nós? Aonde nos enquadramos nisto? Vamos sofrer perdas e fome até não termos algo para lutar?
-Ou isso, ou desistimos. Até lá talvez algo mude. Uma ultima cavalgada da nossa parte e morreremos aos pés dos invasores ou siucidio em massa ou talvez a sorte divina meter-se-á na conversa e dar-nos-á paz. É como digo. Talvez tenhamos de existir para que eles também existam. Só o tempo dirá.