Bamberg, July 24 1628
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My dear, O dearest Margaret,
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How I wish to hold you in my arms!
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But, I shall never again,
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As I'm rotting in a cold cell,
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Condemned for odious crimes I've never commit.
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Please, pardon my awful writing,
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I can barely hold a feather
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Since my torturers have crushed my finger.
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As you can see, I'm still bleeding while writing this letter...
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I was accused of sorcery and as you know,
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At the Church Court, you're guilty even when you're not.
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In the obscure atmosphere of a dirty dungeon,
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I was stripped naked and whipped
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By merciless, masked persecutors.
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Your pain is their gain, so you'd yell in vain.
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Tied to the rack and quartered,
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Every fibre of my frame ached,
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O the ripping suffering I endured...
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But I'll spare you the most gruesome details.
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Unable to bear further torture,
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I had to make up some sins,
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And denounce my accomplices...
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What a pathetic masquerade!
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Tomorrow, I'll be burned on the pyre.
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I just can't sleep at night,
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Assailed by haunting visions...
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I did nothing wrong, my conscience is pure,
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In my mind I'll be innocent until the end.
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They can attack my weak flesh,
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But my soul remains unstained!
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My judges will be judged
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For their twisted caricature of justice.
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Feeble slaves, clung to their bible,
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Dedicating a cult to abomination.
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When ignorance is sovereign,
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Superstitions kill and Faith rhymes with Crimes.
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One of my jailers
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Whose heart still knows human feelings
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Promised me to give you this missive.
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As soon as you receive it,
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Run away from this land of madness.
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The sun goes down,. A mournful organ
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Seems to groan a theme for my requiem.
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Farewell, beloved daughter,
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Your father shall embrace you nevermore...
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-----------------
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The Last Missive
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| Blinded By Faith |
