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Description
The soft flame that kisses pale, mortal flesh,
Burns like the Sun's outstretched fingertips
at high noon. Water, water, yearns the lips,
but none comes. Only the whip's sharp caress.

How I despise such cruelty and coldness!
The rough fingers that will gently grip
bloody hair like bands of iron, rip
clumps of locks; she is nothing but helpless.

Face of stone and heart of ice, the old crone
breaks brittle bone, whips slow crimson liquids
from trembling flesh; such cruelty never known.

A poor, frail maiden, Lashed to the bone
with salty streams that trail down her visage,
collapsed outside the threshold of my home.

Description
The soft flame that kisses pale, mortal flesh,
Burns like the Sun's outstretched fingertips
at high noon. Water, water, yearns the lips,
but none comes. Only the whip's sharp caress.

How I despise such cruelty and coldness!
The rough fingers that will gently grip
bloody hair like bands of iron, rip
clumps of locks; she is nothing but helpless.

Face of stone and heart of ice, the old crone
breaks brittle bone, whips slow crimson liquids
from trembling flesh; such cruelty never known.

A poor, frail maiden, Lashed to the bone
with salty streams that trail down her visage,
collapsed outside the threshold of my home.