On that fair day, she saw death.

Do you remember the corpse we saw, my sweet,
Under the rustling trees that summer morn;
At the turn of the path a loathsome carrion
On a bed of rocks strewn,

With legs raised like a lustful woman,
Boiling and sweating toxins,
Twas spread open, calm and withering,
The chest sunken, lungs expired of air.

The sun beat down on the decaying mass,
As if to melt it through,
This putrid image, amongst the tender vast Mother Nature
All that together she had joined;

The blue sky above looked down on this excellent carcass
As if a flower had blossomed out.
And like a heavy liquid flows
Along came the organs spilling out

Altogether it had become and rose like a storm
Of stench and bubbling froth;
One might to of believed, with a faint breath
The corpse was multiplying, alive.

And before us, nature gave out this strange music
Like of running water and too of wind,

The form was rubbed out and all but a vision,
An image slow to take shape
On a forgotten canvas, which the artist finishes
From memory alone

Behind the rocks was my worried love
Gazed at us in a fierce manner
Anxious to retrieve from the dead
A morsel that she had dropped.

Yet to this rot you shall one day become,
This horrid display of the end of life,
The beat in my heart, the star in my sky,
You, my angel and passion...
Will become this too.

Yes, such shall you be like, you, the queen of hearts,
After the last ceremony,
When you dip beneath the grass and fern leaves,
To mold among the skeletons.

Then, my dear! You must inform the vermin,
As it devours you with kisses,
That I'm the one who preserved the beauty and essence
Of all my decayed lovers.