It is deadly sport, covertly running
Profiles and scheming against this duo:
Their imbroglios are more cunning
Than mousetraps-and twice as cruel.

But I'm left with little choice-
They've finally forced my hand
By dismissing my dissenting voice
And issuing their cold command:

Never will they let me join, willingly,
With the Angel who completes my soul;
Now, more than mistreat us and chillingly
Bend our efforts to their malignant roles,

They abuse our love and keep us apart.
To be separated from her is too much;
We share souls and have commingled hearts;
My feverish body trembles for her touch.

They think me cowed and shaken-
Obedient to their odious will;
But they are woefully mistaken:
My need and longing they cannot kill.

Carefully, cunningly, I'll gather my catch-
Trapping them within their own twisted web;
Strengthened by love, I'm more than their match:
This desire for my heart's wife will never ebb.

Gathering forces and allies to me;
Lulling our keepers to sleep,
I'll work and watch, silently,
Until my promise I can keep:

Before we die, my precious one,
We'll be together: there will come a time
When we'll walk, free, under the sun,
And our passion won't be a crime.

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