Vlad the Impaler (Dracula)

The echoes of my footsteps living

Into the silence of the corridors in which Vlad walked.

Caresses of my hands impressing

The church’s door which the Impaler blocked.

 

The touching of my lips embellished in the icons

In front of which Vlad often murmured prayers.

Into the orthodox exhilarating morning’s noises

Vlad’s enemies were killed and piled in layers.

 

And no more tales in this archaic night, my prince

The oath which I have taken in the Balkans is a bond

Vlad’s story is more terrifying than you think

No changes can be made by any magic wand.

 

That said, my darling Western prince, this night

Let’s live in the imagination of an Irish writer!

Bring costumes, lanterns, castles, and vampires,

Don’t be afraid, come to my room, I’m not a biter!

 

 Or, am I?

 

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