The Satyr

By James Cain

Artwork by Marcia Borell

The satyr plays upon his pipes,

beneath a solstice moon,

an eerie song of real, true love

and the pain from a dozen wounds.

His notes, they echo through the night,

a sad and haunting tune

and still he plays for all his life

for that love to blossom soon.

O love, you tear and burn within,

O love, have you come too soon?

My love, I’m enraptured by your spell,

won’t you hear that soft satyr’s tune?

He plays of a girl so beautiful,

among women, none do compare.

He sings of one with shining eyes

and tresses of gold for hair.

O love, my love, I play for you

you are my princess fair.

O love, my love won’t you love me too

and ever this song we’ll share?

The satyr plays but he’s still alone

no-one will heed his song,

and so, in life, this modern world

true romance is almost gone.

Amongst the noise and trouble

of our busy, lonely lives

no-one will take the time to touch

their spirits in such strife.

And so the satyr ever plays

forgotten in the past

as we struggle all alone

with loves that never last.