Intro:-
Around the 1300s something fun reached the shores of Italy, it's called the Black Death.Let me tell you why they called it that; it was caused by a virus that took three forms, one that infected the nodes, another that attacked the lungs, and the third poisoned the blood. The sanitation in Europe at that time was nearly non-existent, so the disease spiraled across Europe killing millions of people. You should know that this disease traveled around by rats.
Doctors were helpless and ignorant, they had no idea how to treat this disease. So the church took command, and in the midst of frustration started accusing people (75% of them women) that they were witches! 9 million women died in that era because they were said to perform dark magic.
This poem is about the Val Camonica's witch trials in the 1500s in Italy. All the events are true; the torture methods, the bishops capturing people, even the meadows are real. Only the characters are our creations.
N.B. E'una bella giornata : It's a beautiful morning
Dottore : Doctor
Singorina : Miss
Dente di leone : Dandelions
POEM
"No garment ... no garment covering my body"
"What body? Rather pink warts and burning polyps"
"My eyes squirmed among the blisters to watch him too shy to study"
"E'una bella giornata" her voice graveled by the plagues wallops
He nods and beneath the handkerchief contorts a smile
"Signorina" he muffled. "I was summoned by your neighbours"
"Mi dispiace" she rasped. "They must be by the scent defiled"
His eyes shifting, the physician approached to conquer the fading light.
"Where are your servants, signorina?" He asked disgusted but polite
"Call me Caterina" she attempted a smile. "They retreated for their lives"
"But that soft quilt was by my kind maiden styled"
Her brightened mood struck him, and he shakly pulled the quilt.
"Dottore, please don't cover me, my decaying skin is on fire"
He descended to his knees to view the barbarous design
Lips twitching, nose oozing stench, nipples blemished.
She coughed her lungs out, blood spurting spots of carmine.
Moans of agony stopped his sudden flinch
He caught her mutilated eyes, his thumbs on his forehead pinched
"Caterina, I can offer no help"
"In this grand scheme of God's penalty, I am a helpless wretch"
She inhaled a slow easy breath and whispered "I smell dandelions"
Among the death shrieks that roamed the streets
And the rotten bodies' filth that raped the breeze
Caterina recalled a memory and closed her aching eyes
And muted the razors paddling through her neck and thighs
She visioned the wide meadows before the Black Death streak
Erased from her memory tales about mass graves
About bodies in the meadow with no coffins only sheets
She visioned behind her eyelids the grand bonnet on her golden hair
The satin dress ribbons and a fearless young heart's flare
The dandelions carried by the gentle wind above the green grass,
And chuckles raced her breath as she strode in the shadow of youth's glare
Now, her breath is raced by poison through her blood.
"I smell dandelions" she whispered again, and her eyes tear up.
The solid stare in his eyes softened as he plead.
"Caterina, in the name of the Saints forgive me, I'm your knell"
"Do not fret faithful dottore. There's no cure for all the ill"
"No!" He hastened to explain but it was in vain
For the church's bishops had crashed through the door with chains
"In the name of God" the bishop spat. "In the name of Val Camonica's Saints"
"You wicked instrument of Satan is declared a witch, a murderous fiend"
"You recited devilish spells to bring our people the plague"
"Your neighbours swore a witness of wicked magic, thunder and earthquakes"
"You are hereby sentenced to public torture and balzing stakes"
The black robed men chained her limbs and roped her hair
And across the floor dragged her frail skin
Skin are pink shreds tearing like dandelion specks flying into the air
Helpless lady chained and dragged in the streets
Stomped and kick by hundreds of men's feet
Diseased lady with no power to even scream
Villagers shout "there is the wife of the fiend"
Hopeless lady thought to be a witch
The dragging stops as she starts to twitch
"Beat her to death" the shouts said
"But that way she"ll be quickly dead!"
Boiled oil be spilt in the witch's eye
The witch is not yet allowed to die
"Torture her and pour some more!"
"Punish the deeds of the devil's whore!"
"Find her the tiniest, rusty cage"
"Let her taste the nation's rage"
"Lock it with chains so there is no way to flee"
"Let it dangle from the strongest tree"
"It has been decided, we shall do so"
"Leave her to hang and have her flesh eaten by the crows"
Wails for mercy pierced through her hushed ears
It's like listening from the depths of undisturbed seas
Wrestled, she come to open her eyes to a crimson veil
Dripping blood from her torn scalp clouded her once blue eyes
She squeezed them hard and red tears trailed
The scene theatric, each soul just in its place
Clerks with hands crossed as they observed the bustling stage
A perfect circle of dangling bodies like hanging oranges from trees
Hot wrought iron slowly gutting, intestines spiralling on lea
Torches incinerated, while flesh rotated like goats for a feast
"Dente di leone" she smiled, as fire blazed near
The eager punisher laughing like a beast.
Around the 1300s something fun reached the shores of Italy, it's called the Black Death.Let me tell you why they called it that; it was caused by a virus that took three forms, one that infected the nodes, another that attacked the lungs, and the third poisoned the blood. The sanitation in Europe at that time was nearly non-existent, so the disease spiraled across Europe killing millions of people. You should know that this disease traveled around by rats.
Doctors were helpless and ignorant, they had no idea how to treat this disease. So the church took command, and in the midst of frustration started accusing people (75% of them women) that they were witches! 9 million women died in that era because they were said to perform dark magic.
This poem is about the Val Camonica's witch trials in the 1500s in Italy. All the events are true; the torture methods, the bishops capturing people, even the meadows are real. Only the characters are our creations.
N.B. E'una bella giornata : It's a beautiful morning
Dottore : Doctor
Singorina : Miss
Dente di leone : Dandelions
POEM
"No garment ... no garment covering my body"
"What body? Rather pink warts and burning polyps"
"My eyes squirmed among the blisters to watch him too shy to study"
"E'una bella giornata" her voice graveled by the plagues wallops
He nods and beneath the handkerchief contorts a smile
"Signorina" he muffled. "I was summoned by your neighbours"
"Mi dispiace" she rasped. "They must be by the scent defiled"
His eyes shifting, the physician approached to conquer the fading light.
"Where are your servants, signorina?" He asked disgusted but polite
"Call me Caterina" she attempted a smile. "They retreated for their lives"
"But that soft quilt was by my kind maiden styled"
Her brightened mood struck him, and he shakly pulled the quilt.
"Dottore, please don't cover me, my decaying skin is on fire"
He descended to his knees to view the barbarous design
Lips twitching, nose oozing stench, nipples blemished.
She coughed her lungs out, blood spurting spots of carmine.
Moans of agony stopped his sudden flinch
He caught her mutilated eyes, his thumbs on his forehead pinched
"Caterina, I can offer no help"
"In this grand scheme of God's penalty, I am a helpless wretch"
She inhaled a slow easy breath and whispered "I smell dandelions"
Among the death shrieks that roamed the streets
And the rotten bodies' filth that raped the breeze
Caterina recalled a memory and closed her aching eyes
And muted the razors paddling through her neck and thighs
She visioned the wide meadows before the Black Death streak
Erased from her memory tales about mass graves
About bodies in the meadow with no coffins only sheets
She visioned behind her eyelids the grand bonnet on her golden hair
The satin dress ribbons and a fearless young heart's flare
The dandelions carried by the gentle wind above the green grass,
And chuckles raced her breath as she strode in the shadow of youth's glare
Now, her breath is raced by poison through her blood.
"I smell dandelions" she whispered again, and her eyes tear up.
The solid stare in his eyes softened as he plead.
"Caterina, in the name of the Saints forgive me, I'm your knell"
"Do not fret faithful dottore. There's no cure for all the ill"
"No!" He hastened to explain but it was in vain
For the church's bishops had crashed through the door with chains
"In the name of God" the bishop spat. "In the name of Val Camonica's Saints"
"You wicked instrument of Satan is declared a witch, a murderous fiend"
"You recited devilish spells to bring our people the plague"
"Your neighbours swore a witness of wicked magic, thunder and earthquakes"
"You are hereby sentenced to public torture and balzing stakes"
The black robed men chained her limbs and roped her hair
And across the floor dragged her frail skin
Skin are pink shreds tearing like dandelion specks flying into the air
Helpless lady chained and dragged in the streets
Stomped and kick by hundreds of men's feet
Diseased lady with no power to even scream
Villagers shout "there is the wife of the fiend"
Hopeless lady thought to be a witch
The dragging stops as she starts to twitch
"Beat her to death" the shouts said
"But that way she"ll be quickly dead!"
Boiled oil be spilt in the witch's eye
The witch is not yet allowed to die
"Torture her and pour some more!"
"Punish the deeds of the devil's whore!"
"Find her the tiniest, rusty cage"
"Let her taste the nation's rage"
"Lock it with chains so there is no way to flee"
"Let it dangle from the strongest tree"
"It has been decided, we shall do so"
"Leave her to hang and have her flesh eaten by the crows"
Wails for mercy pierced through her hushed ears
It's like listening from the depths of undisturbed seas
Wrestled, she come to open her eyes to a crimson veil
Dripping blood from her torn scalp clouded her once blue eyes
She squeezed them hard and red tears trailed
The scene theatric, each soul just in its place
Clerks with hands crossed as they observed the bustling stage
A perfect circle of dangling bodies like hanging oranges from trees
Hot wrought iron slowly gutting, intestines spiralling on lea
Torches incinerated, while flesh rotated like goats for a feast
"Dente di leone" she smiled, as fire blazed near
The eager punisher laughing like a beast.
I think the drama is appreciated here.
ReplyDeleteAnd also the drama was true, we tried to show how things were in the "witch trials"
ReplyDelete