Blood Horse

I have no strength left to wail.
My blood is black,
poison arrows swaying with the wind,
about to melt me into a sample of death.

I am old, desiring to follow
my master’s footsteps and face fate — death.
That’s all.

The enemy’s unknown sorcery
shatters everyhing in my hometown.
The tranquil epochs vanish,
never to return.
Their robes descend like nets,
with blades splitting my skin.

My hollow eyes watch the heavy armor,
the enemy’s steps dragging through the dust.
Different creeds wage war
for the same paradise.

Each flag and castle
wears the black veil of death.
The curtain falls —
Heaven, a compelling lie?

People build utopias with madness,
like chasing the sun at midnight?
I prefer to battle for my master.
But I will soon fall into hell,
farewell to my soil.

Black clouds gather,
blood covers my tail —
a red brush dragging across the earth,
leaving a crimson trail.
Death arrives as promised.
This world forges nothing for the living.

When flies circle overhead and
I hear the blade’s whistle,
growing closer, ever closer.
I try to open my eyes,
while the blade splits my skin again.

Now, blood flowers bloom from my intestines.
One last prayer for you, my master.
“ That’s all. ”