A Voice From The Dungeon

I'm buried now; I've done with life;

I've done with hate, revenge and strife;

I've done with joy, and hope and love

And all the bustling world above.

Long have I dwelt forgotten here

In pining woe and dull despair;

This place of solitude and gloom

Must be my dungeon and my tomb.

No hope, no pleasure can I find:

I am grown weary of my mind;

Often in balmy sleep I try

To gain a rest from misery,

And in one hour of calm repose

To find a respite from my woes,

But dreamless sleep is not for me

And I am still in misery.

I dream of liberty, 'tis true,

But then I dream of sorrow too,

Of blood and guilt and horrid woes,

Of tortured friends and happy foes;

I dream about the world, but then

I dream of fiends instead of men;

Each smiling hope so quickly fades

And such a lurid gloom pervades

That world — that when I wake and see

Those dreary phantoms fade and flee,

Even in my dungeon I can smile,

And taste of joy a little while.

And yet it is not always so;

I dreamt a little while ago

That all was as it used to be:

A fresh free wind passed over me;

It was a pleasant summer's day,

The sun shone forth with cheering ray,

Methought a little lovely child

Looked up into my face and smiled.

My heart was full, I wept for joy,

It was my own, my darling boy;

I clasped him to my breast and he

Kissed me and laughed in childish glee.

Just them I heard in whisper sweet

A well known voice my name repeat.

His father stood before my eyes;

I gazed at him in mute surprise,

I thought he smiled and spoke to me,

But still in silent ecstasy

I gazed at him; I could not speak;

I uttered one long piercing shriek.

Alas! Alas! That cursed scream

Aroused me from my heavenly dream;

I looked around in wild despair,

I called them, but they were not there;

The father and the child are gone,

And I must live and die alone.

Marina Sabia