Lovely, lovely
The little moon shown
In its silver glow
Above the darkened sky

Lovely, lovely
Shines the sun
As it dances above the clouds
Lighing the sky to a pale blue
Or grey, if it feels so inclined

Lovely, lovely
The flowers are
In the medows they grow
Sweet scents waft to the noses
Of those passing through

Lovely, lovely
A voice sounded
Singing softly in the air

Lovely, lovely
Is the body
That bleeds from every pore
And cries in agony
Upon the stake
For all to see and hear.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Scarlatan, in the year 471 AF.