Dancing in the moonlight with a saber in my hand
upon an ancient bridge where I shall make my final stand.
Thrust and parry, dodge and weave, and here’s a deadly lunge;
his black cloak sweeps my point away. Into the air I plunge.
Quick the falling glint of steel is rushing at my neck,
so swift, a sudden twist, my guard I lift. His blow I check.
Now the time is right and I must do that which I hate:
I’ve caught the point and drawn the knife and made ready his fate.
Death enters and blood pours out; I hear him gasp in pain.
He falls against the parapet; then tumbles past, the slain.
On an ancient bridge alone, my lefthand dagger red,
I ponder on the victry won and on the blood I’ve shed.
Moonlit Duel
Tale Told 