by Kostas Ouranis
Translated by Alex Moskios
In the dumb and dreary Westminster Abbey,
At the feet of his great ancestors reclined,
In his marble sleep Edward the sixth – sixteen
Years old – the king sleeps totally forgotten.
He was a serious youngster, sad and gentle;
He lived in his cold palace with his books,
And he had bishops and strict tutors as his company;
His death was his one and only history.
He had no love affairs; neither did he make any wars.
Thus, on his marble tomb they did not engrave
The triumphal emblems that his ancestors had left behind;
Instead, they inscribed as his kingly emblem flowers:
The galactic lilies and the Tudor roses;
And as if they were truly alive, his tomb was fragrant!