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Peacock:<\/strong><\/p>\n The Death of the Princess \u00a0<\/strong>A Matriarchal Tale from Transylvania<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Once upon a time,<\/p>\n the sultan’s lonely daughter<\/p>\n watched the royal peacock<\/p>\n rise up from the seashore,<\/p>\n soaring past her window<\/p>\n to settle in the courtyard,<\/p>\n a sombre prison courtyard<\/p>\n steeped in fearful silence.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n From his cell, a prisoner<\/p>\n also saw the peacock<\/p>\n and could not help singing:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Peacock, peacock, peacock,<\/em><\/p>\n blue and silver fire!<\/em><\/p>\n Were I but a peacock<\/em><\/p>\n sleek in plumed attire,<\/em><\/p>\n free as my desire,<\/em><\/p>\n I’d rise with the pearly<\/em><\/p>\n dawn and set out early.<\/em><\/p>\n I’d fly high and higher,<\/em><\/p>\n let the light caress me,<\/em><\/p>\n wandering people bless me,<\/em><\/p>\n no-one to possess me.<\/em><\/p>\n I would, as I tire,<\/em><\/p>\n seek out secret fountains<\/em><\/p>\n and in time would sow my<\/em><\/p>\n plumes beyond the mountains.<\/em><\/p>\n Someone might discover<\/em><\/p>\n flames among the flowers:<\/em><\/p>\n Peacock feathers! Peacock!<\/em><\/p>\n Blue and silver fire<\/em><\/p>\n burning like desire! \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n Give them to a lover…<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Startled by the song,<\/p>\n the royal girl descended<\/p>\n to the prison courtyard,<\/p>\n for the singer’s yearning<\/p>\n made her body tremble.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Guards! Who is to blame<\/em><\/p>\n for a song so tender?…<\/em><\/p>\n In the sultan’s name,<\/em><\/p>\n surrender that offender!<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Thus the doors were opened.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Who are you, who are you,<\/em><\/p>\n with those chains that scar you?<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Poor man, he replied:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n You can see, a captive<\/em><\/p>\n soldier in a trap \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n once a cheerful fellow, <\/em><\/p>\n now singing in this cell<\/em><\/p>\n for a peacock’s sake \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n once a man, till taken<\/em><\/p>\n on a bloody hillside<\/em><\/p>\n by the enemy \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n Nobody am I<\/em><\/p>\n just a song in irons,<\/em><\/p>\n yet the guards are still<\/em><\/p>\n accountable for me.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Singing soldier, dear,<\/em><\/p>\n come away from here.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Where to?<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Come,<\/em> she said,<\/p>\n to my silken bed.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Lonely princess, why<\/em><\/p>\n can’t you see my irons?<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n But she bade the guards<\/p>\n to free the captive singer;<\/p>\n and she softly led him<\/p>\n to her own apartment<\/p>\n where she washed his wounds<\/p>\n and brought him food and wine<\/p>\n and dropped her royal veil.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Singing soldier, dear,<\/em><\/p>\n you are mine alone.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Flameplumed lonely princess,<\/em><\/p>\n do not be my jailer.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Nobody alive<\/p>\n had ever fled the jail.<\/p>\n The sultan would have loathed<\/p>\n a living precedent.<\/p>\n The guards gave their account.<\/p>\n So the singer sang no more,<\/p>\n his broken body buried<\/p>\n gently by the waves.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A jealous father battered<\/p>\n down his daughter’s door.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Don’t you fear the block,<\/em><\/p>\n disloyal royal daughter,<\/em><\/p>\n said he with a hiss.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Seek death in the water, <\/em><\/p>\n or in a serpent’s kiss, <\/em><\/p>\n or waste away \u2013 Away! \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n behind the prison lock.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n From the singer’s cell,<\/p>\n the castle’s lonely princess<\/p>\n watched the royal peacock<\/p>\n in the prison courtyard,<\/p>\n that sombre, sundrenched courtyard<\/p>\n steeped in fearful silence.<\/p>\n She could not help but sing:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Peacock, peacock, peacock,<\/em><\/p>\n blue and silver fire!<\/em><\/p>\n Were I but a peacock<\/em><\/p>\n free as my desire,<\/em><\/p>\n I’d fly high and higher,<\/em><\/p>\n let the light caress me,<\/em><\/p>\n wandering people bless me,<\/em><\/p>\n no-one to possess me…<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n So the guards complained<\/p>\n that the singing princess<\/p>\n made their bodies tremble.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Now the sultan sent<\/p>\n their prisoner an asp.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She received the serpent<\/p>\n in her naked hand,<\/p>\n singing till the killer<\/p>\n slept in harmless coils:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I would, as I tire,<\/em><\/p>\n seek out secret fountains<\/em><\/p>\n and in time would sow my <\/em><\/p>\n plumes beyond the mountains…<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n But the singing stopped<\/p>\n when the sultan hurled<\/p>\n his daughter in the sea.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And the waves received her<\/p>\n and they gently rocked her<\/p>\n form in timeless motion;<\/p>\n and they merged the tales<\/p>\n of the yearning singers<\/p>\n that will live as long<\/p>\n as someone still remembers<\/p>\n their blazing bird of passion.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Someone might discover<\/em><\/p>\n flames among the flowers:<\/em><\/p>\n Peacock feathers! Peacock!<\/em><\/p>\n Blue and silver fire<\/em><\/p>\n burning like desire!<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Give them to a lover.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Thomas Orsz\u00e1g-Land <\/strong>is a poet and award-winning foreign correspondent, who writes from London and his native Budapest. His next book: The Survivors <\/em>(Smokestack, 2014).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Peacock: The Death of the Princess \u00a0A Matriarchal Tale from Transylvania Once upon a time, the sultan’s lonely daughter watched the royal peacock rise up from the seashore, soaring past her window to settle in the courtyard, a sombre prison courtyard steeped in fearful silence. From his cell, a prisoner […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6844","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6844","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6844"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6844\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6846,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6844\/revisions\/6846"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6844"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6844"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6844"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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