On a street in France
On a dark night
Death showed his face
To a princess and her knight
Racing at speeds
Hard to conceive
They made his job easy
For death, it was a breeze
A wall of steel
A chariot made of tin
Mix them with speed
You will find your end
Lying in her chariot
The princess half dead
She died on the way
So they said
Hamlets father
Asleep on his bench
A dropp of poison
And be done with the wench
Captivating poem with classic (but tragic?) ending. Well done. Jim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah yes! And so it begins. The story that becomes a legend. To be remembered for all the ages of mankind. Such as Cleopatra and Helen of Troy. This 'Lady Of The Lake' shall live forever. GW62