Wearied with ruling
A realm long turned to dust,
He sought a world
Unknown to him,
That was as innocent of him
As he himself once was.

His new world gave himself
As virgins give themselves
To gods their ignorance has sent them:
Her blood was thinner than its promise
And her cries more quiet.

So as the sword slid home,
This tired man did not inhale
The perfume of her agony:
No fragrance of surrender
Cleansed the conqueror
Who breathed as men breathe air
The bitter dust of the
Unconquerable kingdom
In his old, old world.

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