Doom of Exiles

Now we, returning from the vaulted domes

Of our colossal sleep, come home to find

A tall metropolis of catacombs

Erected down the gangways of our mind.

Green alleys where we reveled have become

The infernal haunt of demon dangers;

Both seraph song and violins are dumb;

Each clock tick consecrates the death of strangers

Backward we traveled to reclaim the day

Before we fell, like Icarus, undone;

All we find are altars in decay

And profane words scrawled black across the sun.

Still, stubbornly we try to crack the nut

In which the riddle of our race is shut.