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Dies Irae

Magnificent cobbled boulevards are lined by scores of gas lamps, illuminating the night so brightly that much of the citizenry feels no need to acknowledge the change from day to night and back again. The people who walk across the northern streets are the wealthiest of their kind, as concerned with matters of decorum and propriety as any upstanding gentleman. Women are escorted by their menfolk, be it brothers, fathers or husbands. Through it all low mists drift from the twisting snake of the river, punctured by points of light flickering from oil lamps.

Dies Irae

Postby Erika Leroux » Sat Feb 18, 2017 11:39 pm

For a few minutes, and only a few minutes, passers by might be startled by a voice, singing, as if from nowhere. The more perceptive might think its source is from below their feet, perhaps escaping through a metal grate, but they cannot quite pin it down.

The voice is female, and is obviously trained to a high degree. The words are in Latin. The poignancy is breathtaking.

Lacrimosa dies illa
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem.
Amen.
She is the sunlight of my sunless nights.
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Erika Leroux
 
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