When kings commanded their hosts
To march to lands unseen,
The eager widows cried the most
Forsaking love for sin.

When phalanx marched to fight and die
As lives were bought and sold,
The sorrow pierced Moon’s pallid eye
For death came numb and cold.

When blade on blade was called to ring,
Wind howled through the reeds,
And there was no one left to sing
Or weep about our deeds.

When bone on bone was made to dance
On pyres thick with flame,
A shield was pierced by bloodied lance
And splintered all the same.

On rusty dust and icy crust
Of shattered hopes I lie,
I kiss the shadowed death at last
On fields of wheat and rye.