Weather is mild in march
and wind blows gently.
It comes far from the West,
smells of peace and rest.
I met Gauls and Numides,
saw men and mice,
Anerriphtho Kybos
Let’s cast this dice.
Have you heard the witch?
“Bewasre the ides of March”.
Should I indeed?
Surrounded by terror,
terror I feed.
Once I marched to Rome,
looking for a shadow,
walked far, walked alone.
I do know betrayal.
I’ve been taught in Egypt.
But traitors are mean,
cheap to buy, cheap to sell.
Little useless things.
The dice is cast,
and now it rolls for me.
Kai su, teknon?
Death is sweet is spring,
comes on silent wings.
Coem on Brutus,
no regrets,
Push the knife in my chest.
I’ve always knew
I wasn’t wrong
about you.
Alas soldiers,
women, friends.
I will miss your scent.
Cleopatra’s
fake smile,
along Nile’s banks.
I knew few friends,
horses, a lot.
Is this all what I’ve got?
Legions with me
one last time,
hail my name!