My mind and spirit are unfathomed,
And on the angel wings I fly.
I have become a happy phantom,
The Holy Incubus am I.

I rip through walls as if through paper,
I pass through windows like a ray -
I am a gas, I am a vapor,
And tenderly I penetrate

The farmer's home - the ruler's chamber -
The townhouse, condo, hotel room -
>From January until December
I fly around and set to bloom

The hearts and spirits of sweet women,
And fill their husbands' souls with rage
Enfolding ladies as they're dreaming
And breaking confines of the cage

In which is hidden heart and soul;
In which imprisoned is the bliss -
I penetrate and I make whole
The was, the will be and the is.

You cannot threaten me with prison,
I'll fly right through the concrete walls
You cannot censure me with reason -
I heed not mind but heart and soul

Wherever I may be, I'll wander
Into the park, then in your room
And as you wonder, thunder, blunder
I'll bring your woman's soul to bloom.

It matters little to me whether
You're wealthy, powerful and strong
Your goals, ambitions and endeavor
Are to me just the same old song -

I seek not wealth, I seek not fortune:
I seek but passion, beauty, grace -
That for so long here has been tortured -
I seek the falsehood to replace

I seek to heal, and clean, and nourish
The souls that beauty have inside
I seek to bring the hearts to flourish
And make them bloom, in joy and pride,

That they will see, that they will know
That they reminded be of truth
That their hearts will be made to glow
And bring to them eternal youth.

I'm Holy Incubus; my goal -
To resurrect the soul and heart;
To bless the universal whole,
And light and beauty to impart;

To bring alive internal splendor
Make it eternally to bloom -
To be romantic soul's defender
And make it shine through the world's gloom -

To manifest the light; and so
I fly around the world each day
With wind and rain I pour and blow
And sparkle in the sunshine's rays.

I'll meet you, gentlemen and ladies,
Wherever you may live and hide:
In Russia, India, Texas, Hades
I'll find my way your bed inside,

And if you seek me to dismember
Or on the embers you me fry,
I'll still be me, now and forever:
The Holy Incubus am I.

Ilya Shambat.



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