The Troll Queen's Bride
Give him some weeds, he is happy, give him a kingdom, he cries.
Death my comfort, Death my confidant, Death my escort.
We ramble over the mountains, making strange bedfellows
at inn beyond the wood beyond the worlds, in Siduri's bar
below the serpent's tree, where once Gilgamesh wept over Enkidu.
Here, down in the deathly lands, even Death is not welcome,
and so this gypsy road we travel, Death my husband, Death solace
of hot cocoa in a bay window as you read the novel of his heart.
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