Ole and Lena II

Oh Lena, constant wife of fifty years
I recollect the struggles and the tears
As when the harvest failed in sixty-three
Then here you were, as now you are, with me
And when the barn blew down in eighty-two
Who else was side by side with me but you?
And Lena, when in nineteen ninety-eight
The cattle dead, the bailiffs at the gate,
Still it was you, still constant by my side
As constant as the day you were my bride
And now as on the edge of life I lie
I contemplate that soon perhaps I’ll die
And, by ill-fortune’s winds so roughly shook,
I realize you only bring bad luck

If I Don’t Burn

“You can’t shine if you don’t burn” – Kevin Ayres

 

If I don’t burn, how will I shine a light?
Will I fade, falter, flicker, fail and die?
How will I find a way across the night?
 
If I, exhausted, lose the will to fight
Or carry on halfhearted, fighting shy
Then, burning dim, how will I shine a light?
 
If I am dulled and lose my appetite
And lose as well the wherewithal to try
How will I find a way across the night?
 
If I despair of seeing the sky grow bright,
Not noticing the new day dawn is nigh,
Then, growing cold, how will I shine a light?
 
If I pretend that everything’s alright
If, smiling outward, inwardly I cry
How will I find a way across the night?
 
If I won’t speak, won’t tell you of my plight,
Won’t tell you how my world has gone awry
And will not let you share your warmth and light
How will I find a way across the night?