Melwosia

Fate of the Beaten

Melwosia


The air resounds with songs and cheers 
All people have dressed their feast clothes 
Several children run before me 
Millions of colours fill my eyes 

But my senses are worn 
Weariness and hardship have gashed them 
I feel the burning sun on my neck 
And the rope around my wrists 

" Forward" the druid says, 
Pressing its dagger on my back 
Stones are wounding my feet 
But I speed up my pace 

The forest around me is full of life 
A light breeze sways the branches 
I hear some crackling and scratching 
Caused by inquiring animals 

But they quickly turn away 
And the silence falls 
A smell is given off from me 
The fragrance of death 

" Forward" the druid says, 
Pressing its dagger on my back 
The mud stains my feet 
But I speed up my pace 

The path we are following 
Plunge into the thick forest 
I feel the burden 
Of invisible eyes 

Druids and prisoners 
Form a strange single file 
Slowly moving towards 
The glade of the forest of gods 

All is covered of dried blood 
The glad is scattered with old bones 
Some corpses hang down from trees 

A disturbing song resounds 
An hypnotising threnody 
The druids recite the call of sacrifice 

We're forced to knell on the grass 
Waiting to be chosen 

A huge blaze is lighted 
The warmth becomes severe 
Is it my destiny to burn alive? 

Four young Celtic warriors 
Make their appearance 
And walk towards us 

We're forced to knell on the grass 
Waiting to be chosen 

Suddenly they begin to run 
And pass before us without a glance 
They jump in the heart of the blaze 
Screaming the name of their god 

A druid burst out laughing 
" You deserve not the blaze 
It's a reward for the great warriors 
You, beaten, will have another fate" 

Suddenly hands seize my head 
And press it on the ground 
I see a silvery glint 
And my head leaves my body 

The gods must be thanked 
The battle has been won 
The axes strike again and again 
The heads of the beaten roll 

The air resounds with songs and cheers 
All people have dressed their feast clothes 
Severed heads strew the grass 
Litres of blood cover the ground 

Men, women and children 
Join in the druid's song 
The barbarous chorus 
Drowns the moans 

The gods must be thanked 
The battle has been won 
The axes strike again and again 
The heads of the beaten roll 

Morrigan, Morrigan 
You let us crush our enemy 
Morrigan, Morrigan 
Take and drink their blood