Julia, starving in your lonely room,
I flout the pain of death to visit you.
I know your other names, your small secrets,
But worry not- I bring to you freedom.
Your bed and wit have been made desolate,
Proving that men can be crueler than gods-
To torture you before your life had fled!
The situation's changed, now imprisoned
When once you locked doors at my advances:
I wonder if I can trust your honeyed words,
Coy eyelashes, or your mouth on my neck
As you sit stoic in a mourner's clothes.
Then suddenly I realize the mistake
That, if discovered, brings to me the headsman's axe.
Goddess, with your eyes as grey as wisdom,
Have I offended you long in the past
That you did not warn of this disaster?
Julia, a heap of black-dyed linen!
Even in folded robes, there are no bones!
Oh no, oh no, my love, my foolish love,
In vain I have journeyed across the sea,
A sea as dark as cloth you do not bear
Upon thin shoulders. Am I now too late?
Oh, laughable question, the assassins
Have taken blades held between their white teeth
And they will pierce me, drain breath to the floor.
A kiss, then, to my memory, quiet the blow.
Let me believe that you were always Julia.
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