In David's Cave

I am the one who plucks the strings
For the consolation of kings

Each one with a minuscule realm
Whose subjects’ subsist but on dream

An I for an I, truth for sooth,
Hope’s melody with grief’s refrain

Moon setting west silvers the night
As the far stars could not care less

I am the one who plucks the strings
For  the desolation of kings 

Each of us with a fading realm
Where subjects graze meadows of dream