The expectation is that Francois Villon,
after leaving the pages of written
records, soon met his end, hanged
or being stabbed, and not just
an expectation, but a belief,
a hope, that his end was quick
and fitting for his life lived
and poetry written until he
exits our knowledge, moves
beyond its small horizons.
But perhaps he got what he wanted,
became a priest in some small
rural parish, lived a few decades,
had bastards with a concubine,
did his duty as well or bad
as the average priest in those
troubled times, until finally
some pestilence came
and carried him away into
an unremarked grave,
a death beyond knowing.
06.03.2025
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