[創作] The Troubadour

[hecati (...it'll be okay....)]

You were there when the story started,
another tale you told.
The song unfurled at the city gates, when
the nomads fiercely came.
Love, lust and courage bold,
all this you eyed so cold.

Among the people flowed your presence,
the Prince of Paris streets.
The arched brow and sarcastic smile
betrayed your all-knowing and that unknown.

Singer of narration, chanter of prayers,
of pain, of torment, of desire.
You had your chance close to the Emerald,
yet knew you should just admire.

You were not there when the story ended,
another tragedy you told.
You needed not see all to finish the lament,
turning away after the first victim fell.
Perhaps all the way you were just playing along
this cold engraving on Notre Dame’s wall -----

Anarkia!



~~NOTES~~
  * The word “Anarkia” is Greek, here spelled out in Latin letters.
    It literally means “fate”.
 ** As always, criticism, comments and discussions are very welcome!!


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