Swords clash with a deafening ring
And men fall, looking to the skies above
While a chorus of pained, dying cries sing
And the crows begin their feasting thereof
On this, the battlefield of love.
Fathers, brothers and sons in blood are gone,
Fallen prey to the steely weapons of the enemy.
No more will they rise with the grey dawn,
Never more will they their families see;
For here they fell, on the battlefield of love.
The leader, above his white army standing,
Wanders his eye over the crimson struggle.
In grief his heart wails to see his men dying,
Their lifeblood pour and life-force crumble.
He watches, helpless above the battlefield of love.
A shining helm he wears, a gift from his royal father,
And on his hip, the straight sword of a true prince.
In his clothes, near his heart, lies a hidden favor,
Given in promise by a lady fair, her love to evince.
This he remembers, above the battlefield of love.
He flinches in memory of their last fateful night
When her father snatched her from his grasp.
Jealous of his daughter's love – his "fatherly right" –
The black king took her from her lover's clasp.
Now the lonely prince's tears blur the battlefield of love.
But when his gaze rests upon the black army,
His tears become ice and his heart turns to stone.
He thinks of his captive lady, his eyes grow stormy,
And concerns for his own safety to the wind are thrown.
His noble goal in mind, he joins the battlefield of love.
Foe after foe he proceeds to vanquish and slay,
Enemy after enemy lies dead in his bloody wake.
With a skillful sword and strong arm, he enters the fray,
And turns the tide of battle while his enemies quake.
In fear they shake, there on the battlefield of love.
Invigorated by their lord's calm and powerful advance,
The men of the white standard fall on the enemy.
With new strength, they again begin their solemn dance,
For discouraged they had been, and fearful as any.
But now they prevail on the battlefield of love.
And so the black standard was trampled down,
The dark army slain, and the white victory won.
On, the snowy host advanced, after the silver crown,
Into the dark woods and across the raging river; as one
They forsook the blood-soaked battlefield of love.
At last the castle of Night came into the warriors' sight,
Reaching to the stars with towers like eagle's claws.
The emerald-eyed lady awaited her beloved knight
Atop the tallest tower, locked in chains without cause,
Enduring her father's cruelty: her own battlefield of love.
Into the inky castle burst the white army with ease,
The black army having fled after its own defeat.
Frantically the prince sought, fighting down his unease,
For without his gentle lady love, he felt incomplete.
He feared heartbreak, an entirely new battlefield of love.
Finally, there was only the tallest tower left to search,
And at the top, the prince found his lover dear.
"But who is also here?" he wondered with a lurch,
Seeing the lady's father, threatening her with a spear.
Here was an entirely different battlefield of love.
"Kill your men and yourself right here," the black king said,
"Or your lover dies on this spot, by my spear blade."
"No, my love, please do not!" the beautiful lady pled.
"My life spared is not worth so many lives paid!
No more blood must be shed on this battlefield of love!"
With a tortured gaze, the prince looked at them,
Wishing for another option than the two presented.
Men or lady, many or few? Who must he condemn?
For this dilemma, the black king he hated and resented.
What will happen on this battlefield of love?
Then something happened that no one expected:
The lady fought back in a fierce though futile fight,
Leaving her father for a short moment unprotected.
The prince took his chance and killed the black knight,
Setting them all free from this battlefield of love.
Their quest over, and the victorious white army returned,
Bringing the shining princess back safe and sound.
Never again would the land have to be fearful or concerned
About the black king and castle, formerly so renowned.
At last, the prince and lady could freely revel in their love.
Forevermore, that battlefield of love lies forgotten in the grey dust of time.
Now, however, a new kind of battlefield of love looms before the royal pair.
For love is never an easy road, and ever remains a long and difficult climb.
Their love must pass the test of time, and of life's innumerable cares beware.
The War of Love will endure 'til lovers' end, each battlefield fought and won.