Ludwig's death in 1886 caused much controversy. Was it murder? Suicide? Or something altogether different? When his body was found, along with the corpse of his psychiatrist Dr. Gudden, the questions began and they have never been satisfied. This poem speaks of my own theories (murder, then a stroke) and tries to capture Ludwig's final thoughts as, like Ophelia, the freezing water enveloped the remains of his life.

Who would have thought

The old man had

Such breath in him?

Not much older than me -

Only Four and Twenty-Three.

With two blows

To the head.

Now nothing left,

I can barely see

The ripple in the water

For all the clothes.

O bonny, sweet robin,

Red-breasted witness

To this villainy!

I'd take a knife,

And cut it deep,

O, I'd let the red blood seep

Into the clear vinegar that's swirling here.

How can the water be so clear

When death is creeping over there?

How to die

When gold won't slice the flesh?

I can't jump clear of this great mess.

No railroad cart will crumple me,

No jagged cliff can set me free.

The shore beckons me,

With the laughter of a dove

Ringing true o'er all the miles.

Dear Sissi, my Sissi,

I would swim for -

Evermore, the pain

It grows.

And something stops my stroke.

The horizon blurs.

I think of how much else

I wish to learn.

To wait so long for the cool arm of eternity

To grip you firmly,

But never understand?

O, no,

I am just like every other man.

Choking on my

Frivolous fancies,

Burnt like green wood

On the hearth.

All I believe

Can shrivel to dust

Inside this unexpected mirth.

The flowers swirl around,

As I sink and sink

Into this water soaked

In herbs and roses.

Ophelia could never feel this pain -

No, no one has ever felt the same

As I.

So, as the water envelops my mind,

I watch Elsa in the distance, sigh,

I float to the surface,

Pale, hinting death

A bloated swan,

Bathed in vinegar and herbs -

O, Elsa, pray no longer

For your saviour

Has come.