The Imperial Peasant - A poem

[TH3GHOSTWAFFL3 489]

[!] A poem has been pinned on noticeboards in Reza , and been sent circulating around the rest of the Orenian Empire by a few couriers. [!]

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The Imperial Peasant

 

I walk often through these sodden fields
And mine tired eyes do often see
A weeded land with barren yields
Where a poor man slaves in misery
For meager pay, no real reward;
A thankless job, for his thankless lord.

 

No clothes upon his wretched back
Save tattered rags, wet with fog
And a cheap, filthy, worthless sack
Shot with holes, not fit for a dog
Let alone for a man made by GOD;
Yet forced to suffer a strong birch rod.

 

At his side he bears a mark of war
And when he toils it creaks and groans
For once to the Emperor he swore
And fought, yet nobody even hears his moans
For nobody cares for those like him;
See how his body is bony and slim.

 

His wife clings to his side in the rain
A woman with nothing to her name
And nothing but death to hope to gain
For when he dies, there's nothing to claim
And no money to pay for a marked grave;
For this wretched man is paid as a slave.

 

 

Written by

Dietrich van Jungingen

-Writer and Philosopher-

 

 

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[Inferno_Ougi 1454]

“Amazing.” Marveled Hannibal after picking the crumpled paper off of the floor. “His prose is something that should be studied by all. How he paints the common man with viscosity, I fail to tell. This man is a genius! I must meet him.” He declared, picking up a pen in preparation for a bird.

[Vermy 1484]

Sulraell mumbled, whilst sorting books on his own ”P-perhaps.. he s-should m-make a book and d-donate it to t-the Eternal L-library..?”