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Post by biglin on Jun 7, 2011 19:05:57 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
One: Linda:
Dark but golden were the clothes she wore, And round her feet rose petals lay, Scattered, broken, fragments of a heart Redder than blood itself. There was no hint of cooler shades or hues As round her living lightning flashed. All was dark and cool, utterly translucent.
There is no purity in the name Linda, Linda that in Spanish means pretty, In German means a snake. Linda that is a serpent, Linda like the serpent that tempted Eve, Linda that sounds like “cinder,” The slag and ashes of a burnt-out flame.
There is no music in the name Linda, Only discord and klaxon from empty vessels. Linda stands alone in a cave of rock With only stalagmites for company, As all around outside she hears the raging Anger of her enemies, fury of the universe, Splitting its atoms into smaller and smaller parts That they might escape the hellishness of Linda.
Linda is the nightmare haunting their sleep, The wolf who eats alive their slumbering sheep; Linda is the vision of despair Stretched across the tremulous air. Linda Is the hollow tocsin knell Of toxined life that leads us into hell, And nothing at all grows, Even her foes Recede and fade As the serpent maid Stands like a statue of ice Eternally framed in the grotto, And there is no beauty left in Linda, All sifted out and cauterised to bone.
For Linda it must suffice To be an eternal warning motto, A worthless lump of slag or cinder Whatever she had long gone.
Only remains The dry veins The vain pains The arid rains Of serpent Linda, Pretty snake, Now none will slake Their thirst at the fountain of Linda.
Dark and golden is Linda, Cold and dead on the living earth; No more than a worthless cinder Is serpent Linda.
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Post by biglin on Jun 15, 2011 16:30:52 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Winter:
1)
Linda arose From her couch of snows In a valley of cold white stone. The clouds and hail And the bitter cold Announced the harsh monotone Of her coming to birth On the slumbering earth, With her long drak tresses Linda caresses The ice and snow That only go Where the earth is frosted And only accosted By Linda's shrill voice At which none can rejoice And the earth itself trembles in fear To see Linda appear.
2)
In a faraway cloud White as a shroud The sun slowly tried to unravel And spread out warm rays ANd make a green baize Out of the desert below, Where all was hail and ice and snow. But Linda picked up her gavel And banged it as hard as she could, So that the fingers of frost stayed clenched Across each river and wood, Like a footballer doomed forever to be benched, And Linda spread out her hands Across the once fertile lands, So that nothing could thrive or grow Beneath her blanket of ice and snow, Nor anything fresh or gtreen Peep out through her cloaked ravine.
3)
With freezing fog And baleful smog She hid the earth from view; The sun blew out his fiery breath But in Linda's cold air it met its death. Her coal black haiar Reached out its tendrils everywhere To smother light Except the cold bright Whiteness of snow, Greyness of ice, That nothing should grow. By her device The earth lay endlessly locked in winter's grasp; None could unclasp The cold dead grip of Linda upon the land, As her icy towers Throttled the flowers And her power grew, And the earth was spanned Covered only with ice In Linda's grim vice.
4) Under the soil Where life strives to toil Its upward way Linda still held sway; In her frosty heart Not the smallest part Of coral or fern Could hope to earn The right to flourish And slowly nourish The earth and the seas Where Linda's caprice Held all things shut tight In her prison of bright And lonely despair, Hard ice everywhere, And a blanket of snow On which nothing could grow.
5)
And when through her carpeet of white Peeped a small aconite, A crocus, a snowdrop, shine out And slowly put to rout The evil Linda and her cold white gloves And slowly on the earth small drops of loves Crept past the icy glacier she had made, And overturned her icy palisade, And as her shawl of ice began to melt Inside her heart the evil Linda felt The first faint stirrings of a kinder season, And so she slowly died; there was no reason For such a cold and heartless girl as her To longer live. As earth began to stir, The cruel and evil Linda slowly died. Not a tear shed as she was swept aside, An evil bitch who got what she deserved Was what the earth's new life stoutly averred.
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Post by biglin on Jun 16, 2011 10:13:36 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Cold and Darkness:
There was a girl within whose cankered heart Nothing but poison dwelt. No blood could flow, For ice alone lay sluggish in her veins, And the foul breath she exhaled through the air Smote all that lived. Within the mighty rampart She built, her castle's peaks were capped with snow, Nor was there perfurme wafted from flesh, Only the stale miasma of choked drains, So that around her everything, everywhere Was trapped within the all-embracing mesh Of the death and pain that she delivered daily. And on so seeing, laughed, and shouted gaily "The world's my tomb; I'll lay all life within it" Eternal death I give in one short minute!"
Her name was Linda; the accursed belle Had been cast out from the farthest circle of hell As even Lucifer condemned her ways; All vice, and no one virtue you could praise, For all inside her was the pure quintessence Of evil; all that lived in her putrescence, And all she did was poison and destroy All things that lived, with pain and death the joy Of evil Linda, witch and bitch of earth, Who made abortions, never giving birth, But slew each hope before its breath was drawn, And left the earth all managled and forlorn In an eternal silence From Linda's violence, All desolation From Linda's striation.
All in her world was cold and dark; no light Or heat illumined, nor no cheerful bright Flames licked and warmed the world where Linda, caught In an eternal stalagmite, stood taut As any bridge, spanning an mighty river, Or arrow not yet loosened from its quiver.
Beneath the dead and sullen sky Only the silent lullaby Of Linda frozen, rocking the world to sleep, And even dry of any tears to weep, With glaciers for her pillows, Her only garment snow. Within her empty bower There lives no dower, Only the morganatic Marriage pragmatic Of Lind'as transmutation Into eternal calcification.
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Post by biglin on Jun 16, 2011 10:14:03 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Drowning in Linda:
To hold cold beauty in my own warm arms And hope perhaps to thaw it into life, To seek to melt right through the frozen charms Of her I long to take and make my wife., And kiss those glacial lips and so defrost M<y longed for Linda from the Faberge egg Of cold and dark, wherein her soul is lost, And chip away each icy dreg With love more potent than a powder keg.
I catch my breath; the cold air fills my lungs And almost strangles me. The shards of ice That enter me and freeze the very tongue Within my mouht, and lullingly entice Me so to share the frosty heart of Linda Through the coy magic of her frosty charms, And utterly to hinder My quest to hold her in my arms, And with the fire of my love to dissolve The core of ice that shrouds her from the earth, So at my hands and lips I can absolve Her of her sins, and bring her into birth.
Her silent singing haunts me; in the tone Of minor key and pianissimo Its breathless music's fluttering moan Sweeps through my soul. A strange bellisimo Fills me; I sway, I tremble at the sound Of my dead Linda working on my heart And calling me to share the frozen ground And stalactited air in which she dwells, And I, fast frozen by that lifeless dart, Am drawn to share her cold forbidding hells, Where there's no life within our empty shells.
Outside of Linda I can have no life, And, as the world around me, cold and dead, Frozen in stasis, void of all its strife,. Calls me to share its lifelessnes, and wed The cold heart of Linda, sculpted into frost, Fashioned from ice and snow alone, And take me from the world well lost Into an everlasting bone Without a flesh to deck it, with the flame Of my great love for Linda, I consume Her coldness, melt her, make her tame With the incandescent, fiery plume Of my undying love for Linda, And, as she slowly melts away From the sparks struck off the tinder Of my hot love, the ice turns first to spray And then to flowing water: Linda's frown Of cold gives way to lovely ocean's gown, And so within my Linda's love I drown.
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Post by biglin on Jun 16, 2011 16:18:18 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Linda and her suitors:
This is where Linda lingered for a while, And, at her coming, all around was hushed, As if to speak a word would be too rushed And clumsy a response; instead, they smile, And hope she'll turn their way and let them file In single columns: how their faces blushed To think she'd pick THEM out of the huge pile Of worshippers who, dumb with beauty, gushed The empty words of praise for one so high, So far above her devotees, so grand It seemed as if she viewed them from the sky, And, with a slight wave of her regal hand, Gave life and home to those who vainly strove To win her through displays of boundless love.
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Post by biglin on Jun 16, 2011 16:18:41 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
The Praise of Linda:
An empress of the dark, All men remark How Linda's stark Beauty of hair and eyes, And her ripe breasts Can somehow hypnotise All who in those nests Seek to gather fruit and flowers From her forbidding bowers. All smiles they come, And spread their gifts before her feet Until, struck dumb Before her beauty they admit defeat.
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Post by biglin on Jun 16, 2011 16:18:58 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Linda the Destroyer:
The flowers droop and fade, And all the rivers and the streams are dammed; The cheerful serenade Of happy birds has turned into a bedlam So all things slowly sink Into the final sleep of summer's slumber And teeter on the brink Before they vanish into the long lumber Of things now past, The beauty of the green leaves on the trees Thrown down by the cold breeze Of coming autumn winds that taunt and tease Them to tumble down, All utterly removed their lovely gown.
Then Linda comes to birth #As slowly all that's fresh and green and fair Is stripped from earth, Till desolation governs everywhere. Naked the trees stand, Their leaves all trodden into mush At Linda's command Earth's robbed of all its lush Garlands of flowers, fragrant aroma, Colours and vibrance In one vast carcinoma.
Linda's to blame As she is for all ills, A curse and a shame Over valleys and hills, Over rivers and streams, And the oceans and ice She scatters her schemes And peddles her vice, Till summer is fled To its cold lonely bed, And autumn brings sadness As Linda brings madness And the earth, unclad, Begins to go bad.
Soon winter will come, Its icy thumb Grasping the land In its stifling hand. Only Linda rejoices To hear no more voices; Only Linda hates colour, And makes the world duller; Only Linda the bithc Could seek to bewitch All the world to its tomb In the oncoming gloom: With her poisonous breath She sends all to their death.
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Post by biglin on Jun 17, 2011 12:40:31 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
The evils of Linda:
Linda the meretrice, Linda the putana, Linda the perra, Linda the ramera, Linda de puta madre, Linda die Hüre, Linda die Hündin, Linda die Fotze, Linda die Möse, Linda the örüspu, Linda the amclk,
All the filth and foulness of the world Gathered together And blended into one noxious essence Of evil within her.
Linda echt böse, Linda echt übel, Where alles ist schlecht, Nichts gut zu sagen Über unser Linda, Die ganze zeichen Von übel und scheiss, No virtue, mere vice, Lives only within The dark heart of Linda, Empress of sin, Depraved and debauched, No good to discover Within the cold heart Of such a lover Of evil and bad, Of all that is mad, No virtue, no vice, No reason, caprice Alone rules her head,
She’d be better off dead!
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Post by biglin on Jun 18, 2011 9:52:40 GMT -5
The Linda Cycle:
Linda arrested:
Since all the earth condemns the worthless Linda Why should the human race be any blinder To all her faults, nor see she's virtues none? By her own evil Linda is undone Quite utterly, quite damned beyond the chance Of magnanimity; each cutting glance Speaks only of the hatred and contempt All feel for Linda, and their stern intent To show no smallest smidgeon of mercy to her, BUt in a court of justice to pursue her, And see she's punished harshly for her cimes, With no forgiveness for the many times She's erred, done evil, followed wicked ways, Till not a soul can find a thing to praise About the evil Linda and her sins, Her crimes, her errors; nor shall palanquins Upon white chargers gallop to her aid, As if she was a lady, not a jade Deserving nothing; so, to Linda's chagrein, They took her prisoner like the rogue and ruffina She truly is. No good at all to say Our evil Linda. In her negligee They took her from her bed at dead of night, And warned her that her days as parasite On others, and the world, and life itself Were over now for good, laid on the shelf With dusty history's other evil wenches, Whose very names give rise to noxious stenches, Inb the nostrils of all good and honest folk, And Linda trembled at the words they spoke, Knowing her power on earth had passed away, And for her evil crimes she'd have to pay.,
"Oh mercy, mercy, please!" then Linda cried, As laughter range around on every side. "Mercy for YOU, bich?" then the spokesman said. "You'll get no mercy here; away, away With her, to taste our prison's gloomy bed Where you must stay till, at the break of day, You're brought to court and there be put on trial. When you're found guilty, everyone will smile, The earth itself become a better place, And joy return once more to every face."
Then Linda wept and cried; it did no good. Her captors ears were dumb as if of wood, Their hearts cold as the ice that lived within Linda's own frozen heart of vice and sin.
And so in handcuffs she was led away To wait her fate on breaking of the day.
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Post by biglin on Aug 1, 2011 16:37:19 GMT -5
The Future
What are you, not yet born? The question hangs in the air, forlorn As a lamb that’s been shorn, As a soul that still mourns
Out of the empty expanse of time No answer comes. Each tick, each chime Measures out space in a motion of fear And impossible hope for what might appear.
You will never be known, For even when at last your face is shown You’ve long since ceased a future state to be, Instead, as present you’ll walk proud and free.
I will never know you, future, Not hold you in my arms ur loving suitor, Nor kiss your fresh young lips in fiery passion, Nor love you: for as yet you’re not in fashion.
In our sad world today Beauty’s a bartered thing; we pay For brief enjoyment, and tenderness Is just for folls,. Far better to oppress The folk who struggle vainly to survive, Whose trust and honesty is trampled under, And, though they vainly strive, Will only furnish treasures for your plunder.
Soon we shall die, And everyone who lives beneath the sky Or burrows, wretched, in our sterile earth, Will fade away, as you at last give birth.
No one will mourn us when we pass To fertilise the twittering grass, Or become droplets in the air above, Or lie, grasped safety in the ocean’s love.
No one today will mourn our going down, Yet you, our future, cast a beckoning frown Or shed hot tears of sadness at our death, For love is blooming in your every breath.
Here, above the vileness and dirt, The shame and pain, the squalor and the hurt, You wait expectantly to bring new life, To wake us with your drum and fife From the vast emptiness of our forgetting, The unutterable ache of our regretting, The burden of each flower crushed inside Our hearts, of greed and hated, envy, pride, All these you know and you wash us clean From all our malice; everything obscene Is burnished bright to newness in your sight, As your new world emerges into light.
Inside our empty heads and shallow hearts We feel your presence, as the moving parts Of some vast engine, utterly beyond The vain presumptions of our vagabond Snatches at truth, the trash that defines us And utterly, overwhelmingly, confines us Within our prison of pride. Yet in truth We have some right to pride, for it’s our youth That made you, future, spring up as a flower As at our back we see swift time devour The youth, the joys, we had, not long ago, Now fades as the spring melts off the snow.
Around us all the world is dark and cheerless Yet you , our child, will grow into a fearless Hope, not weeping, like us, bitter tears, For all the pain and shame of wasted years, Nor evaporate in a vast cloud of steam As our endeavours prove a fickle dream Or, worse, a nightmare gotten on false fear, When to persuasive lies we still adhere Rather than the stout oak of simple truth, Or the slender willow of our yielding ruth, That lets its pity fall like healing rain When we see others suffer grief and pain.
The emptiness of momentary love, That flits away as we remove a glove, Or the cold winters that shall cover over The earth in which we live; no four-leaf clover Marking our resting place, to bloom and bless Those who sleep silent in the grave’s caress.
Yet none of these small dooms assail my soul: I weep instead to hear Earth’s timeclock toll The passing of humanity, its death As insubstantial as a marshland wraith That shimmers for a moment through the dark Until we see, it’s but a passing spark, Ignuis fatuus, as the scholars say, Forever gone, passed utterly away.
Yet even so, when all are dust and ashes, Of less account than rain which, weary, splashes Upon the barren world to irrigate Whatever lives then, in your future state, It matters not that we who live are past, For you, inevitable iconoclast, Will come, however and whatever form You take, our restless race against the storm Of what life threw at us will matter less Than your majestic coming, to address The lack of us, and to put something other To stand instead of that which, though we smother The thought with high fine words, is all one now, One with the rusted tractor and the plough, One with the cold and distant stars above Gazing down on our long ephemeral love.
Yet I will walk beside you in that time, I and my true love, swimming through the slime Of what we are now, soon will be among The new-coined years on which your words are hung, For without our today is no tomorrow, Without our ceaseless striving, endless sorrow, Your brave new world could never come to be: Future, you owe your very life to me!
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Aug 24, 2011 16:29:14 GMT -5
Approaching Autumn
Earth puts her box of paints aside, Closed down the shutters of each room So all's in gloom; Grass and flowers falter, Leaves stripped of their pride Lay on Earth's merciless altar.
The music of swallows and swifts And their joyful cadenzas All gone now; we hardly remember Thye sound, as Nature's voice stutters, Growing silent as snowdrifts Or leaves choked in the gutters.
Summer's all ended now; Autumn and silence and night Cover the radiant delight That once was the Earth. No green on the bough Till spring brings new birth.
Only winter to come, When cold and dark rule us all, And the senescent Fall Seems almost benign As under the thumb Of winter, we pine.
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Aug 24, 2011 17:01:15 GMT -5
Skinny dipping
As the sun's glow is lost from sight, the moon Begins to shed her pallid light upon The compnany of darkness; as they strut In merri8ment to see the moonings' rout. Stars in the vaulted sky are hid from view And only the gleaming shadow Of lunar light reflected on the waves Catches the errant wives.
Now, strong in their faith, they move To the waters edge where the moonlight wove A silver tapestry of dreams to cherish And so to nourishs The hot imagination of each lady, As she casts envious eyes upon each tawdry Pebble and shell That on the sand sprawl.
Now the night's full, the women start to strip, Leaving their daylight clothes in a tidy heap, And, without glancing at the moon above, Walk towards the waters's churning sieve, Their various-sized breasts jiggling as they go Towards the sea's relentless tower Of uprishing waves to wash their bodies clean, Make them immune.
And as they enter in the salty foam, Half-giggling as they ride the water's plume, The ladies feel the brine upon their flesh, A sharp uprushing gush Of scraping water stinging them with salt Where lost tears tremble at the thought Of what's connived at, lied about, dissembled, As through the waves they tumble.
The water makes us clean, Our nakedness a lone Presence upon the empire of the sae, Whose mighty sway We cannot challenge as we plunge and swim In our nude ecstasy at freedom won From the confinement of the clothes we wear In the furtive daylight's curtained corridor.
Now, as the waves cleanse us from sin, Our hearts are glad; as if touched by the sun Our naked bodies glow in warm delight And manumit Our daylight-draped conformity of shame, Though there's no crime; We wander through the moon-bedazzled sea, Naked and utterly free.
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Sept 12, 2011 17:57:47 GMT -5
The Gypsy speaks
Oh my sad people, Doomed to wander All over the precious earth; Even if we settle We are not welcome, Our otherness offends, Our love of freedom Chafes at the minds Of those who'd bind Humans with manacles.
Yet freedom is our blood, The air we breathe, We eat and drink it every day, Not choosing to submit Our necks to their cold yoke.
I see our people moving Like shoals of fish Within the turbulent ocean. With hearts of steel, Clumsy but full of rich warm fire.
Oh my people, Do I hear you calling out to me Across the pawni, From foro to atchin-tan, Singing brigaki djilia But in a major key?
Is our future bright, Is the world around us changing So that our ancient ways And love of freedom May at last grow and flourish?
The stars smile down upon us, A rope of joy nestles inside The hand-made kipsis To bind us all together.
Kale, Kalderash, Lovara, Sinti, Roma, all are one, All one in a net of love, Rising above the hatred and deceit Shouted from every rooftop; Yes, the cold eyes of our oppressors Seek to feast upon our aching souls, But the dead fire of hate within Turns slowly to embers.
Our Romipen Points out the path of hope To a world that drifts, Lost in its fears and hatred, Delusions and vanity, Oh, and we know so well The thunder is breaking, The lightining flashing, And the rain falling To wash away In cleansing torrents The utterly absurd, The cruel, unfair Ways of the baro rey And the bistering mush.
Let me hold you in my arms, My fragile, delicate romipen; Let me kiss your passionate lips, Make love to your hot body.
We stand tall and proud, Utterly free, No longer afraid Or heart-broken.
We are the gems Plucked out of the mine Of a truly living heart.
We exult In our fierce romipen.
We are Roma, We are gypsies; We reach out our hands In friendship To all the people Of the world, Offering the gift Of our romipen And the laws of the brothers.
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Sept 12, 2011 18:01:40 GMT -5
How us gypsies are
From Sulukule's soon to be ruined homes Or the cold wasteland of a Russian winter You'll find us. We are flotsam, yet our moans Bring few to save us as we drown. Each splinter Of hate is hammered deep inside our soul, As the "one way" clowns perfect their masquerade Of human rights that don't apply to us, And launch their fake crusade To wound us till our bodies ooze with pus, And we're to blame, Always the shame Upon our folk, Our heavy yoke Is always legal, So they inveigle Otherwise decent humans Insot signing on as a crew man On "operation gyppo smash," And so they daily trash Our folk, our way of life, our dwelling places, Talk racist lies right in our bloody faces!
Dosta! Enough! To hell with all these things! When Django plays, or Elvis sings The world around applauds; and yet their blood Is Roma. Why the difference? With the mud Thrown at less famous Roma, oh, it's wonga Makes them OK. The love of money's stronger Even than prejudice and hate and lies In the racist chorodie gadje eyes.
We're simple folk; we don't ask much. We do the best we can: so why's there such Venomous hatred of the Roma race? Why are we trashed and lied about? Disgrace Is all the fame and fortune that we get, Caught in the web of vicious lies; regret Sings through our music, haunts the verse we write, As every day we fear the endless night Our foes plan for us. We must make a stand, And try to make the haters understand We're not as how they say; we have our laws, Our ways and wisdom: sure, we've got our flaws, But then who don't? We do the best we can, So give us a fair shake of God's good plan For everyone who lives on lovely Earth, That gave both Roma and the gadje birth.
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Sept 12, 2011 18:04:11 GMT -5
The Gypsy Way
Tose who before me came Like me, enjoy no fame, But in their simple way Tried always to display Honour and simple truth While in the barter booth A;l's freely bought and sold For base metal and gold.
Hot blood runs in my veins From lush green fertile plains, Or the tall ice-capped mountains, Uprushing fountains, Cascading waterfalls, Deserts that dryly sprawl Over the thirsty earth- All gave my people birth.
Born in an Indian sun Time saw our folk undone And so we wandered west, Clutching within our breast The law of the brothers, The "jib" of our mothers, And with the patrin penned The drom for following friends.
Our westward trudge was halted As, within vaulted Rooms of dark terror They held us in chains, Tried us with pains, Told us to confess our errors And all would be well But they doomed us to hell.
Even our lives were not safe As we began to chafe Under the weight of our chains And the hot blood in our veins Burned with an angry fire, A firm desire To seek freedom wherever it lay No matter how far away.
Much has altered since those times, And we're now mostly found in temperate climes; The porajmos nearly silenced our breath But enough survived from our doomed death And we mad brigaki djilia to ease the pain Of the time we were almost slain, And many died in Auschwitz's ovens At the hands of their Satanic covens.
Now they tell us to stay, Or else they move us on; No place to bide by the roadside, Our ancient ways half gone.
All we can do is pray To God above To send down pity and love Into the hearts of our foes. Who knows? Maybe they'll leave us alone today!
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