The bull

There was a castle in the remote province of Aragorn, by the sea



a so-called castell by the villagers of the comarque

a castle over rocky cliffs, which settled was

and watching toward a bluesy blue sea, it was built

built by the Moors it was
long, long time ago

conquested by the Christian knights of Aquitaine and Navarre in war, the castell

the Moors were fried alive
alive they were fried

long, long time ago.



An abandoned and lonely castle, as it seems, since the king died alone with his white beard of king

and nobody else dared to go into those stony walls ever since.



Someone mentioned a repugnant disease

someone mentioned incendiary torches

all the servants escaped to the walled citadel

and the king's corpse was left to die somewhere.


Illuminated by the carmesí light of the extenal chandeliers coming through white glass, his argent crown still on his head

In some of the 113 bedchambers; the king's corpse.




No one else heard a word about all this in the depressed villages that surrounded the castell, since the well-known and macabre events

since the unknown macabre events.

And in the nights there's no light or candle inside; and there's nobody there.



Since the mysterious, ünknown events

and there's nobody there.



Except a bull.



A huge and red bull they say
with black, brilliant and long horns, they say.



Some seamen swear they have seen it in clear days of haze

seen through the tall windows of the castle; from their ships, and they swear it.



Nobody saw any bull while the king was alive, in his years of mental sanity, which were 101 years, they say.



Nobody knows how the bull appeared.



Some people, even, would swear that this bull has human hands
like the hands of a man. And cries.










Nobody else dared to go into those stony walls ever since.









In the nights, there's no light or candle inside.