I am a song
A song of the crow, when it smells the scent of my corpse,
Come swinging from the edge of the dense forest,
Where I was thrown away, as of crops after the harvest
My breath has left me, yet my tears flow
I am full of pain, bruises hammered on me like nails to a tree,
I cry, because I now dwell in the place that I do not know.
I cry because I was killed the way no woman would want to be.
Fireflies swarm around me like the six lights of my room,
They left me too, because a number of wolves were looking for me,
When the sun appears, there will be just bones in my tomb,
And there would be no one, not even one to tell you my story.
To the "beautiful world", what did I ever owe?
A woman, independent and diligent like me,
From those strange intruders called men, what did I ever borrow?
That they have to snatch my living body away from me.
I kept everyone happy.
They will now, only shed tears in the stone of my grave,
And my slayers shall wash their sins on me,
Ages after ages, the inquirer, they would find not a one trace.
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay", The pitier whispered to me,
Since then, my chains broke and I painted colours to my woe,
For my slayers would one day plead and bleed on their knees,
And their death will remain a song of the crow.
