Dead King – Immortal poet

(to Hristo Botev)

“O tempora! O mores!”

with sorrow he exclaimed,

and rightfully infuriated

was the poet who was shot.

In his immortal poem

where he was the king,

his angry words –

his loyal subject.

He armed his word

and gave them rifles,

and uniformed them,

so he can go with them in war.

Then, as a king,

of his domain

he led his words

into the battle,

so he could liberate

his long asleep

and dormant

country man.

The shot had sang -

the king had trembled,

the bullet kissed

his royal heavy head.

The king descended

with a bullet in his forehead,

and then ascended in the heaven

where the immortal poets dwell.