A Transylvanian Love Song



My love, my Flame, my ifrit bright,
With eyes like smouldering coals,
Tonight we dance in the Scholomance
By the light of burning souls.
Do you recall the day we met,
Aswim in the Baba Gurgur?
Of those handsome devils in the revels,
You chose me for paramour.

You look tonight like you did that day,
A thousand years ago;
Through past events that happened hence,
You’ve hardly aged, you know.
I wonder if I look the same,
In my reflection, as well?
I cannot know, though you tell me so,
As I have no way to tell.

The fare is fine; how fair a wine
To whet your appetite.
In glasses fluted, undiluted,
Deep and scarlet-bright.
I long to see you hunt again,
As we have done in past.
The blood-red moon hangs low, and soon,
The day will come at last.

The villagers await below,
To set our solstice table.
It’s nice to walk and hear their talk,
Their silly bedtime fable.
You take such care with your manners, dear:
In Algol’s hellish light
And the gules eclipse, your dainty lips
Seem to kiss instead of bite.

You play with your food; it’s your one little flaw:
One’s bricked in the castle walls,
And one of them hangs, as, from one of your fangs,
A ruby droplet falls.
Excuse me; now I must attend
To the whims of our noble guests.
While we have been sitting the Count has been flitting
About the eaves in jest.

It’s lovely leading the corpse quadrille
To the tune of tortured cries,
But once they’ve left, and again bereft
Of life our castle lies—
My love, my Flame, my ifrit bright,
With eyes like smouldering coals,
Once more we’ll dance in the Scholomance
By the light of burning souls.

Daniel Galef


If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Daniel Galef would be pleased to hear them.