I Pray For A Revenge
Monza, January 1609.
I stood there with a body laid hopelessly on the ground. The second blood had been shed. Corrupted by a misshapen love.
Nine stabs. I have done it to him as what he had done to her. Or shall it be even thousand more as the pain would be closer to how I felt of losing her? I looked down to him. Lifeless. I felt an urge of champion feeling coming out from my vein which with every beat it rushes out, screaming a winning shout to the dark sky. I smiled.
I then took off my white veil which had been stained with his blood. I covered his face with it. I knelt down, and I prayed in silence. It all went back to my head, the memories.
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Senandung di Puncak
Kuraih tangannya. Kucengkeram. Kutarik dia dan kuikat ke punggungku. Matanya masih terpejam. Badannya berguncang kencang. Ku berbisik,
“Hey, adik manis, kamu tahu lagu La Montanara?” seruku mengalihkan rasa takutnya.
“Tau,” suaranya bergetar, nyaru diterpa angin.
“Yuk kita nyanyikan. Kita akan baik-baik saja. Mama udah nunggu di atas.” Kubuat suaraku setenang mungkin walau takut pun menjalariku.
Perlahan-lahan kudaki lagi jurang itu. Batu-batu kerikil berjatuhan setiap pijakanku, dan jari-jariku merogoh-rogoh batu yang bisa kujadikan pegangan. Sambil ku bernyanyi,
La montanara o-he
si sente cantare,
cantiam la montanara
e chi non la sa?
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