terça-feira, 10 de março de 2009

The Hounds.

There's no escape
From death's embrace,
though you lead it on
a merry chase.

The dogs of death
enjoy the chase.
Just see the smile
on each hound's face.

The chase can't last;
the dogs must feed.
It will come to pass
with too much speed.

The hounds, the hounds
come baying at her heels.
The hounds! The hounds!
The breath of death she feels.

[Para ti, G.]