God save the Queen!
A child would squeal
Suddenly swept away
Placed upon a horse
Hanging on for life
Taken into the dark
There is no queen
She died last night
There is a tall man
Sitting on her throne
He leans back, relaxed
With his feet up, smiling
Drinking blood wine
And eating raw pork
His clothes are fancy
And his boots splattered
With a thick red substance
Some servants say paint
He demands entertainment
More music, more wenches
He calls, he bellows
Voice loud and severe
An open hand finds a face
The whole castle shakes
Fists idle, but mind not
His advisors have
Suffocated to death
Alone he will decide
He ponders his next
Conquest, war, rape
His soldiers march proudly
They have presence but lack
Skill, effort and sanity
They quickly fall in battle
There is a vague sound of laughter
Before darkness ascends
There are none to be seen
The town is silent, betrayed
And the kingdom has fallen
Still, he sits unscratched
Chewing on bones
Finally alone is his insanity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem