Promethean Fires
(Roumania: 1989)
Vlad Dracula’s pained Princedom was for years impaled
On ancient fundamental tines — vengeance and hate —
Transfixing Transylvania’s haunted valleys, veiled
Black monumental mountains, to a blood-stained fate.
So many died because some few had wished it so;
As many were impoverished to fee false schemes,
And many cried whose tears could not persuade their foe
Shew pity when cold polity decreed drear dreams.
Time’s tyrants cannot live with truth or liberty;
They must suppress them or themselves be swept aside.
But freedom’s potent passion cedes no sovereignty
Whatever despot strategies oppose its pride.
Peoples who can’t protect their rightful human dues —
Though bound by cruel ties enforced with terror’s wrack,
Their bodies battered and resentful spirits bruised —
Will still assert themselves and win their freedom back.
Truth, hope and liberty are quintessential desires
That cannot be extirpate; they are Promethean fires!.
