A sad rope floats above a pyre*
My conscience fades before this executioner
To whom only death brings joy
And this crowd which shouted interminably
The rope was put around my neck
The trapdoor opened immediately, causing the wood to crack
My neck cried out its last pain
Like the branch breaking under the weight of age
During these last moments of indifference
My eyes stared sadly at the happy crowd
The executioner proudly set fire to the pyre
Convinced that my burning would purify my soul
I was misunderstood but I was free
And I will never know which of these feelings
Will remain engraved in history

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