I caught the calanthis in my hands
He had flown to me from royal beds
Red like my sin, He sang the silence of cut flowers
I watched its falter
Poor thing, had drunk from poisoned bowers.
There had I stood helpless,
And from that day knew no sleep
Filled with madness
I would watch the Moon on her hunt
lying awake, remembering the death bird.
Sprung from the selas, it had sung to me
And I had followed the dirge to my deed.
People spoke of the Kingkiller
But of the lute player, no one knew
His six strings lay broken,
his music long lost with his maiden.
A free woman
she had been - the best of light and dark,
a well mixture
of truth and art
Aloine and Lyre,
Best loved of her raveler.
She was a cruel mistress, Repent
Nearly impossible to forget
after a thousand miles and a thousand days
The calanthis singing his lament.
A/N: I would be grateful for any reviews. I also have an idea to write a story about the night before he kills the King, the one night he gets to have with Denna. Tell me if I should.