The Whip of Torture
THE WHIP OF TORTURE
By Immaculata Ortner
In the loss of Maiden’s head
In time briefly spend in pleasure
The glass of her treasure is broken
And tyranny like a babe is molded
With frames of friendly brain
And lames of deceitful claims
Sparkling like lightning in vain
But freeze blood with hate
Like a tragic tale of viper’s sting
With whip of torture, thou toss my heart
And wrapped my mind with fear
Oh pains of an angel lost!
Oh tale of a lost gold!
Oh love for a rose that grips in vain
Crack thy shell and free thy slave
Thou love that stiff and sniff with choice
Raiding like rain in the moonlight feast
But though a heart must love
Shut my eyes and deafen my ears
Fix my feet’s on rocks
Which flood of fear, it can bear
Rain thy peace oh gods of peace
Teach thy tools oh! Thy heart
And write with us oh! Thy will
For there is where truth dwells
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