I stare into thy face with tears in my eyes;
My friend, unbeknownst to thee,
As we march onto our final battle
The war seems long from complete,
But thy fight must end today.
Alas, these be not prophetic tears
Of vision; 'tis one of inevitable commandment.
All thine folly aside, thou art a friend;
A brother, who would give his life for mine
Thou art cruel; for as thou hath saved this lost soul,
Thou hath killed it as well.
God above may have claimed my soul, as you say
But the debt lie not of God, but of thee.
In the full rage of war;
A secret blade, of venomous intentions,
Would enter thine mortal being,
It's disgraceful owner wielding it.
Thou shalt never know thine self betrayed;
For the same knife that carries thy noble blood,
Shalt also be the knife that drags me to hell in the same breath.
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Poèmes du coeur de la bête (Poems from the heart of the beast)
PoesiaSome of the greatest of the poetic works of the most mysterious Sir Gortus Queue. From a touching poem that reaches to the deepest depths of a man's yearning for his lady, to the pain of loss, with the eventual doom of the poet in the Thames, he is...
