joi, 16 martie 2017

Proleokult: 2. Worker's Lullaby

The hum of a train a few miles past
A high note, a longing howl
as he sleeps near the railroad tracks
That's the worker's lullaby.

The apprentice raises the hammer
He lets it rise, higher and higher,
The blade glows in the torchlight
From the looming ceiling
towards the heat of the anvil.
That's the worker's lullaby.

Smoking through the battlefield
Red flag swings, caught in her hilt
She puffs one out and shoots them down
Paris is burning
The year is eighteen seventy one
That's the worker's lullaby.

Then there's you reading these words
Just like them all, tired of lords
And while one might lack the swords
Through the screens, the books, the chants,
You work, you pay, you worry
For the day, your folk, your love,
You watch, you read, you worry
For your comrades, for man's glory.
If these words thou feels,
Then comrade,
Yours I sing
The worker's lullaby!

All ye workers,
Put your weary heads down to rest
Come morning, back in struggle
Wave the flag and break the slumber!

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