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Description
Since time I can remember,
I was always longing for the dark castle.
My heartbeat always arrhythmic
At a sight of an enigmatic silhouette
hidden in the hazy forest
high up among the pitch black
encrusted with darkened emerald tint of the mountains.

Opal stems of the cone old trees,
sharp sapphire of the pine needles is shining with fresh pearl dew,
the abrupt amber road,
covered with fallen eyelashes of the pine trees,
embraced by a hazy veil of the mist.
The path the ghostly whisper travels in the evenings
To reach my sleeping mind.

Was I walking through the gates of horn and ivory?

I could see the messy jigsaw of the roof spearheads.
Black stone, platinum reflecting elongated windows in gold curvy frames,
I could hear wolf howling from the high above,
though nobody ever saw any wolves running down to the valley.

I felt mentally, as if someone was whispering “Rosario”,
and even though my name is Bacilise,
I felt like it was me the velvet voice was calling.
I wonder what is his name,
So that I could answer him on his request.

I could see blurry images of the tired eyes of a mysterious man,
I would secretly sketch the gaze with my aquarelles.
Like a morning river, crystal clear, silver blue eyes.
The tired yet sharp gaze
that penetrates right into the core of the soul,
making it tremble in panic at first,
Just to let it enter the trance afterwards,
and force to surrender to the hypnoses those cryptic eyes radiate.

The dark foreign castle,
a warm light twinkling behind the heavy windows.
the entangled gate to the otherworldly and the unknown,
A majestic intense silhouette
blasphemously contrasting against the soft holiness of the divine blue sky,
The shiny marble blackness of the castle against the softness of the spotted heaven
appears a mocking blasphemy.

The dark blue twilight curtain is causally lifted to show a glimpse of heaven,
peach golden cloudy throne and lilac velvet,
the luminescent iridescence of the feathers of the angels´ wings,
as they sit in a circle around their lord.

Until the time of the Night Knight is to come,
slashing mercilessly the feathery angel wings bleeding,
Gold and blood on to the royal altar,
the true nature,
the wicked harmony of the castle silhouette amid the bleeding background,
Flickering candles burn the pink velvet,
turning it into screaming scarlet,
Mourning heavens,
until the darkness covers the wounds of the saints,
and the silhouette merges with the dull background,
covered under the velvet coat of the robe of the Night Queen.

The clouds look so artificial and clumsy
as if a starving artist painted them in a hurry.
Splashes of indigo blue ink against blanched almond virgin sky.

And so,
on to the flamingo pink canvas
lavender marshmallow clouds are splashed,
embracing the lilac chocolate of hazy mountains,
enframed by the thin lines of peach striking of the evening sunlight.

I do not rely on my memory.

The tired dwarfs went to sleep into the cobalt blue ridge.
And I am left alone by myself,
just me and the ghost of the vanishing castle.
The darkness slowly devouring its grace.

Surrounded by blackness,
in my memories only,
The grandeur of the sun,
Is piercing through the dirty veil of rancid mist,
Attention covered with moldy lace of the uncontrolled thoughts,
The saviour rays are shining platinum golden powder onto the surface of the sepia fjord.

I paint, I breathe, I paint.

Enduring the mental race,
I watch the bottomless sky,
like a shimmering starry Persian carpet,
melting magenta clouds are bleeding into the sunlit golden pod,
somewhere high above my head,
Like a maiden chest slit deep to the bone,
ruby red with a tint of dark burning gold.
Cloud waterfalls of air water,
the virginity of cloud veil is pierced with the sharp points of fuzzy dark pine trees on the peak of the mountain.

I study the wild beauty I just painted, carefully,
My messy thoughts and fears transfered on to the canvas,
So that in my mind
I can tell him about my itching longing,
About my holy solitude,
About my courage and sparkling curiosity,
A riddle to be solved,
A quest to be entered,
And if he asks,
if I am ready,
I know what to answer.

Description
Since time I can remember,
I was always longing for the dark castle.
My heartbeat always arrhythmic
At a sight of an enigmatic silhouette
hidden in the hazy forest
high up among the pitch black
encrusted with darkened emerald tint of the mountains.

Opal stems of the cone old trees,
sharp sapphire of the pine needles is shining with fresh pearl dew,
the abrupt amber road,
covered with fallen eyelashes of the pine trees,
embraced by a hazy veil of the mist.
The path the ghostly whisper travels in the evenings
To reach my sleeping mind.

Was I walking through the gates of horn and ivory?

I could see the messy jigsaw of the roof spearheads.
Black stone, platinum reflecting elongated windows in gold curvy frames,
I could hear wolf howling from the high above,
though nobody ever saw any wolves running down to the valley.

I felt mentally, as if someone was whispering “Rosario”,
and even though my name is Bacilise,
I felt like it was me the velvet voice was calling.
I wonder what is his name,
So that I could answer him on his request.

I could see blurry images of the tired eyes of a mysterious man,
I would secretly sketch the gaze with my aquarelles.
Like a morning river, crystal clear, silver blue eyes.
The tired yet sharp gaze
that penetrates right into the core of the soul,
making it tremble in panic at first,
Just to let it enter the trance afterwards,
and force to surrender to the hypnoses those cryptic eyes radiate.

The dark foreign castle,
a warm light twinkling behind the heavy windows.
the entangled gate to the otherworldly and the unknown,
A majestic intense silhouette
blasphemously contrasting against the soft holiness of the divine blue sky,
The shiny marble blackness of the castle against the softness of the spotted heaven
appears a mocking blasphemy.

The dark blue twilight curtain is causally lifted to show a glimpse of heaven,
peach golden cloudy throne and lilac velvet,
the luminescent iridescence of the feathers of the angels´ wings,
as they sit in a circle around their lord.

Until the time of the Night Knight is to come,
slashing mercilessly the feathery angel wings bleeding,
Gold and blood on to the royal altar,
the true nature,
the wicked harmony of the castle silhouette amid the bleeding background,
Flickering candles burn the pink velvet,
turning it into screaming scarlet,
Mourning heavens,
until the darkness covers the wounds of the saints,
and the silhouette merges with the dull background,
covered under the velvet coat of the robe of the Night Queen.

The clouds look so artificial and clumsy
as if a starving artist painted them in a hurry.
Splashes of indigo blue ink against blanched almond virgin sky.

And so,
on to the flamingo pink canvas
lavender marshmallow clouds are splashed,
embracing the lilac chocolate of hazy mountains,
enframed by the thin lines of peach striking of the evening sunlight.

I do not rely on my memory.

The tired dwarfs went to sleep into the cobalt blue ridge.
And I am left alone by myself,
just me and the ghost of the vanishing castle.
The darkness slowly devouring its grace.

Surrounded by blackness,
in my memories only,
The grandeur of the sun,
Is piercing through the dirty veil of rancid mist,
Attention covered with moldy lace of the uncontrolled thoughts,
The saviour rays are shining platinum golden powder onto the surface of the sepia fjord.

I paint, I breathe, I paint.

Enduring the mental race,
I watch the bottomless sky,
like a shimmering starry Persian carpet,
melting magenta clouds are bleeding into the sunlit golden pod,
somewhere high above my head,
Like a maiden chest slit deep to the bone,
ruby red with a tint of dark burning gold.
Cloud waterfalls of air water,
the virginity of cloud veil is pierced with the sharp points of fuzzy dark pine trees on the peak of the mountain.

I study the wild beauty I just painted, carefully,
My messy thoughts and fears transfered on to the canvas,
So that in my mind
I can tell him about my itching longing,
About my holy solitude,
About my courage and sparkling curiosity,
A riddle to be solved,
A quest to be entered,
And if he asks,
if I am ready,
I know what to answer.