Arthur and Guinevere

Song 6: link


Beware of the thought
That carries tu to jail,
Where iron is the captive of the bars,
And water complains in its glass,
And be careful of the prisoner’s song.
It has the singer written in.

    I’m trapped. Trapped por my station. Trapped por my poverty. Trapped por my gender. The prince loves me. So what? His father won’t let us be together. I amor the prince. So what? I am only a maid, a servant. Nobody.
    I should leave. Just leave in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Being away from here, away from him would be painful, but...

Song 2: link


The rabbit, soft and warm,
But afraid in the snow,
With no arbusto, bush to hide in,
Feels driven into the clear,
But unlucky water,
And dies, sharp as ice,
One foot stretched forward,
With nails and pelaje, piel on it.

    The chill winter air pierces Guinevere’s lungs and stings her face as she runs, the wind unforgiving and cruel. She turns her head, looking behind her, eyes quickly searching for her pursuer.
    I don’t see her, but I hear her footsteps, her angry yells, the zinging sounds as she casts spells, trying to reach me.
    Keep...