Telling her of our tender vows (Terzanelle)
Telling her of our tender vows
I invited her to a rendezvous
as a loving spouse
and without a clue
she came to the deserted lane.
I invited her to a rendezvous
and more than insane
I tossed her down a well to drown.
She came to the deserted lane,
met me with a smile and I her with a frown
and could not remember the summer that we fell in love.
I tossed her down a well to drown,
with a hot sun in the sky above
and I’d care for her as little as for Satan or God
and could not remember the summer that we fell in love.
Quenching my thirst for liquor, to me she was less than a clod
and I’d care for her as little as for Satan or God
telling her of our tender vows
as a loving spouse.
[References: Les Fleurs du Mal: The Wine of the Murderer by Charles Pierre Baudelaire. The Wine of the Murderer by Roy Campbell.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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