I am amenable, but acquiesce;
you speak bombast words of poetic genius,
contumacious when I suggest candor;
must I be this elicit?

I had presumed that I was to birth a boy,
but my babe had been a girl.

She had grown to be strong, to be wise,
but she had told me once,

'This vessel is not mine,'

and I had really, as presumed, birthed a boy.

In the midst of peril, I convince the men
to gather, gather around me as I burn;
till y'er almost scorched, I tell them,
till you feel flames lick at your soul!

O, golden chariot!
Look upon the geldings,
hear the locusts chirp in late evening;
O, golden chariot,
take me away!

Within the debris,
there was the ring;
the rusty, silver ring
that held the story
of a broken oath.

Ink into feather,
feather onto parchment,
ink seeps from the feather,
ink onto parchment.