We
soldiers watch
two
sovereigns meet to sign
a
signature of peace, all
questions
of imperial supremacy
answered
with our blood.
We
soldiers take for hope
a
morning song of hostile crowns
joined
by marriage,
reconciliation
of rivals
through
the hand-fast love-clutch
and
our blood.
We
sing unearthed elucidations,
twenty-year-old
secrets
offering
succession rights,
a
princess and prince on whom
dawn
and the fate of two kingdoms depend.
As
do equations of our blood.
We
soldiers dance.
We
soldiers dance.
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