Blowing out the flickering lights
With the smoke of the cigarettes.
Unbinding the eyes
To see the consequences.
The storm was still loitering
Around my startled neck.
The temptation intensified
When he left my palace.
Superstitious pride of the tribe
Tied down the moth of the drizzling sky,
Who was enchanted by the wicked fairy
That showers in the moonlight.
Now both are crying
In the sorrow of the garden sight,
Where the roses no more bloom
And the florets now bite.
The wolves howled the whole night,
Where they met each other
For the very last time.
One soul was chosen
For the princess's dine;
The other was thrown away
To the dungeon of mines.
They walked away on their own paths
Under the foggy black sky.
[Dedicated to : The Dead Moth]