The love of a warrior // History of love

Plunged in the storm of the war without glory as the devouring one of soul, and the crows as the devourers of the meat of a body without soul, which will be only a dust of a battle, as a memory of a history leaving the brave ones only his memory, I am only a part of this memory that the alive thing as if it was yesterday in the darkness.

I ride without breath with the condemnation of the sun on me, the love of my wife keeps me alive, I promised him not only in word but with my honor that would be back with her, this way it was dragging the ways I block up and stroll around of this war without course, since the will of the man is his honest word, the greed of the wealth has corrupted the dignity of the leaders, only I fight for the honor of my family, that my sword would go back house for my own hand.

The solitude torments me as the dementia of voices of Bohemian lifestyle, which makes fun of my love, but my dear wife is immortal in my heart, which is chained in the love with glory, as the flame of the eternity of the time, only I beg my god who does not leave me, my wound only captures my earthly meat, my horse is my only one ally, ten have already gone on lunas from ways chased from the vagabond death, but my soul him does not belong.

Tired of my armor it is a torture, either the new sun is born on my face, either far in the horizon I manage to see the tulips as my guide to house, the hours became eternal as the intense sun on my face, my love give me the force of coming towards you, I have seen again the glory of my life and my house listening to the voice of me loved, as the soft roses with the wind liberating his aroma that they are present, kneel down before her, me here in your bed, feeling the heat of your hands, embrace me as the eternal love, I have managed to conquer the death my soul you belongs for that I love you, takes my sword as the payment of my honor, excuse me for dying in your arms, but my soul and my honor your it is me who is my dear wife.