The winds from the west
Bring tidings of death
The man known as Freedom
Has drawn his last breath.
Oh, who knows the sky
And who knows the sea
And who knows a place
Where I can be free?
The winds from the east
Above and beneath
Bring tidings of grieving,
The end of a feast.
The mourners cry out
In one ragged voice,
Oh, who knows a place
Where I can rejoice?
Yesterday, I found this song buried in one of my old novels. I had completely forgotten about it. Despite its melodrama and lack of context, I like it quite a lot— and the same goes for the poor unfinished novel that accompanies it. Do you ever find something you started and wished you had finished it?
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