Persephone

Take me Cerberus that I may wed,

Only worthy in youth to the Lord of the Dead.

I have eaten of the fruit,

And so my abode is kept,

Though I yearn for the home that I have left.

Weeping my absence,

Oh Mother do not despair,

Thou art within me, the jewel, my essence,

But cannot hold you long as of yet.

The lord of music has descended to my abode,

In search of his love escaped,

And even he with his tunes tuned to cold,

Could not save her from the warmth of my bed.

A flower I am in the midst of hell,

Darkness encompaseth me,

But with Thy light I grow,

Here is my weapon, that which my lover dreads.

In my dream I have loved another,

But Love herself made of me an enemy,

Taking him, snatching him away,

Depriving me so callously.

How cruel it is to have delighted in the news of his death,

For his blood has turned into the roots I can see,

He is a flower now too, residing there as a reflection of me.

How I yearn to breathe his scent,

As mine is only smelt by the souls of the dead.

The winter is harsh, but how I crave to feel it,

To bathe in thy tears falling down as rain,

Thy cold is my warmth,

Freezing well the source of my pain.

Oh Mother, forget me not,

I will return when at the balance of day,

That short embrace, infinite it is to me,

Perhaps I will die a second death,

And all that has passed becomes an embroidered memory.