Crazy Da Must Sing
No one like me has appeared in this place before
Am I only to live and die,
and thus to feed the earth?
Should I only live and die,
and thus create the mystery
of a holy ground?
Will generations pass this place
of my dilemmas,
feel the movements under foot
and never know the meaning
of the currents of bliss that fill them?
Will the earth itself
perform my only shout?
Will the rot of my few bodies
be my only song?
Will no one understand?
Will all of this,
even the holy ground,
fall unknown into the sea,
without a parcel of my living left
to heal the feet of pilgrims?
No one else can suffer the mysteries of my birth
or death.
and only my own children
can build a temple
where I rise and fall.
