Oh, Sarafina!

Rich green emeralds,

rich bright pearls,

blood red rubies on pale lace!

How rich she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

So many fine gems that she carried,

so much rich silk did she brandish!

How rich she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

And known she was to all the stares,

the glares of women everywhere,

for she was rich and they were poor,

their husband's sin was theirs alone.

How envied she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

A walk of confidence,

an air of grace,

a crowd parted in her haste,

cruel eyes that watched her way.

How envied she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

The sky was mist and ashes,

the roaring and howling of the angels,

the sea of iron rising,

whilst she walked alone.

How lonely she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

She paced alone along the coast,

her abode as distanced as she,

for she liked her silence and the peace,

and the quiet brought her ease.

Alas, the thunder cackled,

and there was a presence not her own,

in a second there was solace,

now she was not so alone.

Claws pierced her back,

and broke her lace, 

blood pouring everywhere,

and she lay there in the rain,

wondering about fate.

How lonely she was,

Oh, Sarafina!

 

A cry, a wail, lamentable curse,

for her riches were to fade,

no more envy, no more gems,

for Death had taken all her grace.

How dead she was,

Oh, Sarafina.

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