The Death of a Poet
Chiar daca este primul meu post de pe anul acesta, nu stiu cat de des voi mai scrie. Dupa lungi asteptari am reusit sa-mi rezolv anumite probleme technice ce tineau de calculator. Asta, desigur, pana apar altele…
Oricum, introducerea e de prisos, iar ca de obicei va voi lasa sa interpretati cum doriti versurile de mai jos.
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Virgin lands, untouched by blade
Have come before the cold embrace.
Cease now your poetic whining,
And pay your tribute to the God of War
In the Great Entwining.
Hush now! If your life is dear,
Do not whisper until I’m near;
Else you risk a gruesome death
In the jaws of true pain and suffering
You shall know the real him: Ark’Nareth – The Beast.
Fate had chosen, the Beast was marching,
Doom shall come and it will mark the crashing
Of the known citadels, corrupt and old
They will wither and die, as t’was foretold…
Emptiness will sweep the world,
Until there is nothing left, only the void…
Yet colour and life shall bloom anon,
Such was the way of the rising son.
Indeed, these things will come in time.
‘Til then, stay safe! You write and rhyme,
As you savor your final moment…
Ah! The colour, the life… and the death of a poet.
