The Janus in front

Everyone is torn by will
and by duty,
apart from the soulless,
who rummage in the dark graves
of the tremors of fear.
We would like to be the example
and lead our own towards the shining
victories of the sense of history
and joyful dances, all high
and eager bodies.
We should, however, be better,
look into the abyss,
gather the grief of widows
and kick cartomancers
and servants of power.

Today is the Saturday of the savage,
we would like to set out with a horde of possessed people
and put the city to the sword
branding with bloody feathers
the twisted alleys of the party drag.
We should, however, ignore the pain,
the cowering sense and memories of the elderly,
violated by the barbarity
of those who disregard caresses
and listens only to rage.

We should finally ignore the faults
and turn them into ordinary legacies
of times of fire
and scents of lavender.
We would like to bury ethical dilemmas
and place a cross upon them,
to show the wayfarers
the path to peaceful perdition.
We should, however, let go of the lamentations,
the inner conflicts,
conformist copies of a corrupt society
into dusters of truth.

It can be done if only you leave us
our icons, severe images
of a tradition of insane pyromaniacs
and outrageous gamblers,
in a comfortable mountain chalet,
smoking a good cigar
and sipping a good brandy
in front of the fireplace