On the top of an ancient hill,
Where Knights of darkness used to kill,
Amidst smoky scraps of mist
Rests a graveyard forgotten by Christ.
And hundred nights lonely souls
Crawl among the old tombstones
Seeking for a divine tent
They taste eternal punishment.
But when a full moon burns the sky
Creepy shadows start to cry
And praying groans float up to heaven
Converted into black immortal raven.
He flies above the crosses and tombstones
Against the forces of old nothern storms,
And he brings under his tired wings
A heavy burden full of cardinal sins.
But wicked night spreads out her nets
She holds the raven until daytime sets.
When bloody dawn illuminates the sky,
Immortal slave will be condemned to die.
Fantasy
© Copyright: Пилипенко Сергей, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110031106913
Свидетельство о публикации №110031106913
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