I

Les Chansons Gracieuses

Into a meadow of radiance doth the Rossignol flutter

Basking in a rue dressed in a gown of solstice

His song rang in an oak's shallow gutter

As he took a glance at life's magnum opus,

Serenading nymphs who attended nature's purpose.

Hummingbirds hovered like bees parched of nectar

As if passion evaporated from a famished lover

Killing his soul with the mind-plaguing vector

His luck joining with it 'pon the dying of the clover

Beneath the Rossignol as he resumed his passing hover.

Upon reaching the meadow doth the Rossignol sing

His melody a gentle wind whistling sweetness adorned

Circling the dying rose in a lavender ring,

Sorrow filled his song as the Rossignol swore,

"l'Enfer hath no fury like a Ruthless Meadow scorned.

Beauty and death exist within her floral fold

And amongst her flowers doth poison lurk

Tempted to erase life from her tranquil abode

Then cast the remains into the pits of murk

While She watches with a heavenly smirk."

Down the immortal meadow did the Rossignol stroll

His gracious song fell upon the python's ear

Stopping at the heart of Mother Nature's soul

A black figure emerged from the shadows drawn near

As the Rossignol watched, frozen in permeating fear.

The figure revealed himself with hair like brown hue

Wearing across his face was solemnity's ragged scar

His cloak was wet like grass 'neath morning dew

His eyes were golden like the sequence star

As the cosmic realm beyond hath shunned him from afar.

His flesh was pale like the winter's snow

As if he slumbered in the cold's embrace

But with great welcomeness doth this stranger glow

To the Rossignol he bowed with solemnity's face

And rose to speak with gentlemanly grace.

"I bid thee greetings, cammarade Rossignol

For I heard thy song from my wintry domain

Such melody doth thy cadence toll

As the twilight now shines 'pon my immortal pain

Damned to roam in bloody vain."

II

Une Prairie Impitoyable

"But dear stranger, why doth my song draws thee,

What draws thy soul from the sleep of cold,

Into this meadow of serenity,

I wish in honesty to be told

What connaissance doth my sanctuary hold?"

"I say unto thee, chanteur of this dying Eden

As Proserpine returns to the embrace of Pluto

I prithee that thou listen with reason

For this knowledge exceeds His chthonic chateau

Buried beneath Mother Nature's meadow.

"An epoch ago, I was once a chevalier

With chivalrous honor I strongly held

I bore the name Clemence Jardinier

In the silver armor of splendor I meld

And by the sword of righteousness I was compelled.

'pon my silver steed doth I entered this realm

And discovered a crypt in decay

With nervousness I adjusted my shining helm

Then drew my sword without delay

Then delved into this abyssal fray.

"Within the silent house of death doth I attend

Bearing the light of God in my soul

My heart-filled cares I once commend

Soon to perish in this necrophage'd bowl

Emerging with a heart like an empty hare's hole.

Deeper I delved like explorers for treasure

Whether it be knowledge of this crypt's ancient existence

Or the Holy Grail of arousing pleasure

Or lastly, the awaiting scourge of my riddance

Whisked away by time's inevitable remembrance.

"I discovered a gothic chamber with immaculate engravings

And sarcophagi in a circle, as if in accueillir

For the explorer driven here by starved cravings

I approached the center where the coffin laid near

Beckoned by whispers, making my blood leer.

Opening the lid, I discovered a petite demoiselle

Her arms crossed, her frame looking as if starved

Then her eyes opened, revealing the shadows of hell

That horror— 'pon my flesh—wert now eternally carved

And my heart-filled cares were then brutally harmed.

"I drew my sword, but with a quickness her teeth sank

'pon the arteries of my neck, and I staggered on the table

Crimson and life departed, drowning in the ebon riverbank

Her embrace carried me into Mors' misérables

Welcoming me to La Prairie Impitoyable.

I awakened in the coldness of this tomb

With the fiendish demoiselle in her loving care

Like malice from Proserpine's womb

Doth my body rise, gasping in the chthonic air

Realizing my nouveau despair.

III

Les Ombres Rêveuses

"'Thou hast trespassed 'pon my ancient slumber

In search of treasure or secrets for thy kind to bemuse

My sweet chevalier, now immortal and somber

Damned to roam ces Ombres Rêveuses

Feeding from thy God's vermillion muse.

May the Rossignol's song serve as a leçon to thine error

For embarking in the unknown for a hidden desire

Forced to become a nocturnal terror

Begging for Phoebus to cast thy flesh into fire

Impaled 'pon his arrow for the skies on his spire.

"'May only the night fall to kiss thy lips

And Luna's light illumines thy newly tortured soul

The endless passing of time doth your sanity slowly rips

Take upon my mantle, little fledgling, and be like me: folle

For that is the Ruthless Meadow's divine goal.'

Like the rouge of a blush did my tears gave way

Despaired by this nocturnal fate

Never to look upon Sol's dawning ray

A righteous dreamer roaming with a nightmare's gait

Begging for Phoebus to drive through my heart an arrow straight.

"So thus ends my tale, chanteur of the meadow

Whose song beckons the memories of my chivalry

For now, my eyes fall upon the rotting petal

Oh, how the blood's toll hath stained my rêverie

Cursing my soul with this vile charcuterie.

The chevaliers' attempts were true but all for naught

The thirst robbing me of my desire to care

For only a chivalrous blade can conclude my onslaught

As I lie upon the bed of trémières

Embraced be my flesh and its sanguine misère."

Melancholy pollutes the heart of the passerine

Touched by this nightwalker's fall from grace

By a tenebrous secret 'neath a façade so serene

A teardrop ran down the Rossignol's face

Deceived by radiance that inhabited this place.

His sorrow was cut short by a figure in gray

Armor clinking with each slow step

The nightwalker awed at this long-awaited day

For ages in his solitude did he sanguinely slept

And the fellow chevalier spoke as if he wept.

"Thou hast sought release from this prison

A blood curse that taints thy tenebrous soul

Centuries have passed, and now clear lies thy vision

For I have come to behead thy gilded shawl

And bring thee to the lumière of Sol."

"Oh, fellow knight, how I've long awaited thy presence

Place my bodice 'pon the hollyhock bed

While still there remains my human essence

Drawing thy blade shalt thou smite me dead

And this ténébreux nightmare I have finally fled!"

The nightwalker rested 'pon the bed of trémières

And the knight drew forth his ebony épée

Finally concluding the centuries of misère

By stabbing the heart of the Clemence Jardinier

His soul sailing the tides of liberté.

"I asketh thee, Rossignol, with all thy musical cadence

To sing of remembrance of his former life in profuse

For he was once a chevalier of splendid radiance

Now a memory to the old poets' muse

Let it be a Chanson Gracieuse."

By the knight's request did the Rossignol sing

Of a fallen knight 'pon this hollyhock bed

Flowers surrounded his carcass like a newly adorned ring

Clemence Jardinier was now free from immortal dread

Free from the burden of the blood-drinking dead.

The knight sheathed is blade and proceeded in grief

Joyed of the peace that death could bring

The Rossignol's song had finished, eyeing a red autumn leaf

Descending like the feather that shed from his wing

As he pondered on the meadow's blossom in spring.