To that woman resisting oppression

Her pain is  sundered from speech
She lives  a  modern tragedy
But where hope seems out of reach
In her pure heart is  the remedy

In shadows  of their twisted mind
How fore’er they pushed her to hate !
They dug – but naught were they to find
for love – her heart’s  one only state !

Justice no longer is  a distant dream
When cries  echoe in nightingale’s wings
When sighs glide  in the waters of a stream
When through her voice, an angel sings

And  tyrants know their end is nigh
Lack of Mercy :  a sign of the weak
Those oppressed, with spirits held high
Will live – and e’er higher they shall seek

Her heart is split in two, yet both are strong
One half resists,  the other shall  pray
But soon they meet, and  their  hopeful song
Shall end the night and bring the light of day

By Comte Almaviva