By Jason Zapata
I ruthlessly sought to end Wallachia’s state of unrest
By enslaving the Boyars who could not escape guilt
Traitors who labored until Poenari’s walls were rebuilt
Because they dared to aid the Ottomans in their conquest
Those slaves who survived were impaled on my behest
On the shores of the Raul Roameni their blood was spilt
Where I had recovered Elisabeta’s body from the silt
With my power secure I began the campaign in Bucharest
(more…)