Have you seen,
walking through the village,
a man with downcast eyes
and haggard face?
That is my husband dear.
My secret cruelty,
never to be told,
robbed me of my youth
and my beauty,
'til at last,
wrinkled and with yellow teeth,
and with broken pride
and shameful humility,
I sank into the grave.
But what
think you
knows that my husband's heart,
the face of what I was,
the face of what
he made me?
These are driving him
to the place where I lie.
In death, therefore,
I am avenged.
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