JANUARY COMPILATION (17 / 01 / 25)

•  The Emperor (To Symboli Rudolf).
• I Wish I Never Met Her.
• RONDO (燐舞曲).
• Velvet Room.
• End of Heartbreak
   

The Emperor (To Symboli Rudolf)

Long ago was born a legend in far Nippon lands,

Who seemed to claim the world from an early age,

An Emperor destined to hold the world in his hands—

Or hooves, and leave his mark on history’s page.

He graced the world with determination and regality,

And earned many honorable victories on the track,

Making by instinct alone his noble dreams a reality;

Nothing would convince The Emperor to hold back.

Seven crowns he won, and only three defeats he suffered,

With each one strengthening his will to outperform them all;

He was the stallion that many men and steeds have admired,

With his mighty rule ending by the end of the season of Fall.

He left for Japan many memories and tales to tell of him,

A legacy that will forever live on beyond the racetracks;

Symboli Rudolf, may the light you brought upon us never dim,

Rest well and rejoice in the art we make to glorify your acts.

I Wish I Never Met Her

From the day we met, Love sowed in me its cursed seed,

And like a plague, its cruel rose started to develop so steadily,

To the point its thorns would make my dying heart bleed.

The spores of the damned thing would infect my brain,

Placing her in my first and last thought every single day,

Yet I've tried relentlessly — and failed — to simply abstain...

Abstain from the idea of pursuing her, the woman I don't deserve,

The woman whose heart mirrors my own with her unique twist;

Yet so hard I've tried to convince myself to merely observe.

Listen, you dumb blood-pumper, listen to the mighty brain,

Why choose the ephemerality of love when there's freedom?

Why sell your soul for the shackles of ever-enslaving pain?

Can't you see that love is a mirage? Can't you see past its lies?

Love's like a siren: it seduces you and then just tears you apart,

It's a sweet nightmare that haunts you till the very day you die.

I wish I never met her, for she's all I could've ever dreamt of,

She's all I've ever wanted, and more — my soul's lost twin —

The one I dare declare before the world as my one true love.

Her smile is sealed onto my memories, her words in my heart,

The moments we spend together, I treasure them above all else;

I wish she were nothing but muse to my crappy attempt at art.

Her smile is stamped onto memory, her words into my heart;

The tender moments we share I treasure above all else —

Yet I can't help but wish she were just a muse to my worthless art.

I wish I didn’t text her daily, I wish I never dreamed her face,

I wish I wasn’t so willing to trade my apparent happiness

For a feeling that devours itself with ease  on a gourmet plate.

I am not the man that deserves to stand by her side for life,

I am not the man who should be lucky to wake up next to her,

I am not the man who should be lucky enough to call her wife.

Even if I know what must be done, I find I lack the will;

If only she closed the door — rejected me — hated me —

Maybe then I could escape, and let this feeling die still.

If she ever reads this, let her know I loved her wholly;

But I want her to find her happiness far from me —

For I am an observer, a supporter, not a man fit to love properly.

RONDO (燐舞曲)

Have you ever experienced something as beautiful as
Having the music of an artist resonate with your soul?
I have, with many, but today I speak of who my heart stole;
Contrary to my usual listen, they play J-rock and not jazz.

I’d argue that I love the genre alongside rock and metal,
And that what set them next to System in my favorites
Is that the voices of the unit are rather soothing, not brutal;
The girls carry a heavy opera with them, and not for less.

When live, VJ Haruna-san sets the mood alongside DJ Tsunko-san;
Saechi energizes the stage with her guitar as only do the greatest,
And then Rihona-san steals hearts, with all of them doing their best.
On-stage, they deliver one of the finest shows known to man.

There’s melancholy in their voices—sometimes distress, love, fear—
Enough for me to sing along, breaking the barriers set by language;
Each track sending my soul into ecstasy that I’ve learned to hold dear,
To the point that hearing them simply eases my emotional baggage.

Calendula made me fall in love; Horizontal Oath convinced me to stay;
With Movement, they seduced me; with Black Lotus, enlightened me.
Yet it wasn’t till Unravel that I shed tears Ultramarino brought one day;
At some point, I’ve learned to sing Prayer[s] like I did with Bloody Mary.

I mean to say with all this that I wholeheartedly love RONDO:
As a band, as artists—they’re talented women, graceful, holy;
The kind you’d want to listen to when you feel your head low,
Or when you’re motivated to do things confidently and slowly.

Should I fall so deeply in love with some band or song, I’ll write,
For such things, when felt deeply, are worth sharing in some way:
As a thank you, maybe; as a sign of affection towards such fate.
I do hope another finds in them the same joy I do, someday.

Velvet Room

At will, oftentimes, I find I can enter into a trance and into this room,
Where my thoughts and all those voices in my mind begin to scatter,
For my soul itself figures how to travel past its own border of gloom,
Towards worlds existing between dream and reality, mind and matter.

Its door is locked away by a key a lone blue butterfly grants to the few, Of the thousands of people willing to free themselves from their chains;
It is said that your fate is signed the moment its wings come into view,
Its wings as blue as the vast carpets that cover its mysterious domains.

Once inside, you’re welcomed by the ethereal voice of Belladonna,
A woman whose singing stirs the souls of whoever gets to listen,
Whose Aria feeds the burning spirits the chosen once called Persona;
Mighty masks we use to face life with the Self’s controlled exposition.

Into view there comes a vast room where a pianist plays in complement.
He’s blind, yet he knows his piano like I know the keys of my computer;
His face is adorned by a blue blindfold he considers another instrument,
For as he sees no good nor evil, his view on the world is much cruder.

Not as far, a painter draws onto the canvas many familiar shapes;
He paints into existence the gods and demons men once believed in;
His perfectionism ensures that he never gets to make any mistakes;
He knows that these beings have always resided underneath our skin.

And last but not least, in the center of the room the Host sits.
It may be a masked man at times, or a long-nosed old man.
Masked Philemon is the master and owner of all that here exists,
Yet doll-born Igor rules while he’s away, immune to men’s lifespan.

Depending on the visitor, he may be assisted by an attendant in blue,
Such as kind Elizabeth, regal Margaret, gentle Theodore, calm Justine,
Splendid Lavenza, shy Marie, or even the young and fierce Caroline;
Each person has their own attendant born to serve Igor and you too.

All of them possess dazzling yellow eyes, ghostly fair skin as well,
And a blue outfit that resembles the room’s aesthetics all the same.
They know of the Journey of the Fool through land, heaven, and hell,
And thus they intend to help the chosen find and free their own flame.

The room’s shape isn’t fixed; it changes all the time for everybody,
For it’s meant to represent the guest’s state and his journey in life.
To some it was a cell, an elevator, a limo, for anything it may embody,
Mirrors what the guests must understand to overcome their strife.

My own is an ancient observatory with a huge astrolabe on the ground;
It’s suspended in deep space, roofless, with an ever-changing view.
The skies reflect my feelings, the floor rotates with a ticking sound;
Teardrop-glass lamps float around with a ticking that is no longer new.

Igor lies on a throne, and next to him stands soothing-voiced Safie.
The sleek, librarian-looking assistant is always ready to share insight
To any and all questions I may have, to ease any doubts I may carry;
I’m glad that music and poetry are the way I can get to enter this site.

The velvet room serves a purpose, and one purpose alone:
To help the chosen and the willing set themselves free for good
From whatever shackles they may be bound, as it’s been shown.
Here’s where you might find comfort if you ever feel misunderstood.

End of Heartbreak

Lately I’ve found myself unable to love another
Without poisoning the golden glass we drink from,
With a drop or two of the jealousy I can’t smother.

Knowing my beloved is friend of some other men
Ignites in me a feeling of unworthiness I can’t tame,
For they’re handsome, better than me in every sense.

Even if all I get is a name, I know they’re better.
It doesn’t take much to outdo a guy like myself,
So pretty much anybody else could deserve her.

Now I’m no cuck, for this is no fetish; it’s a curse,
A punishment born from my inability to trust my own.
As a result, I break myself to the point of departure.

How can I trust my love won’t cheat when, evidently,
She’s surrounded by men that can make her happy anyday?
If she does choose to stay with me, it’d be solely out of pity.

And honestly, I’d not blame Her for leaving me behind.
For I would too if I had a boyfriend like myself,
Whose ugliness is unrivaled in both body and mind.

I’ve got no money to gift, no beauty to offer, nothing.
Yet knowing that, I keep trying to find true love, hopeful,
Knowing well the kind of monster I’m slowly becoming.

Even without being in a relationship, if I do chase her,
The door stays open for anybody to take her away,
For I will never deserve to stand beside as her forever.