The Red Rose and the White 


In the end it was
A question of history
A question of duty
But nothing speaks
As loud as the heart.

Fire, red as a rose,
Rampant or trapped
Sliding down the ancient streets
Destroying, bereaving.
Fire in my blood

A white rose I’ll send
To a lady cold and bright
And a red rose too
For the warrior queen
And her wounded heart.

Don’t pity me
A landless man, sick
And hollow with loss.
I know your sighs
Are for another.

Denethor’s pyre
Is burning still, into
Ashes, into night.
Lady of the White Rose
Put the dark to flight.
- Varda