YRKB
11-26-2012, 06:47 PM
The Battlefield of Aedys
This rain sodden soil hath become my bed,
The last men slain strewn now as my sheet;
And I'll not long wait to join in slumber the dead,
Once from mine heart be wrested each beat.
The din of this great war so distant now seems...
So far from the place I am lain;
Atop this fogged valley so faint are the screams,
Cross the land that the enemy claims.
O Great Aedys,
What a sullen face you show these brutes.
Green Aedys,
What little wonder you must seem to enemy troops.
And how they've fought with such bloodlust;
So starved of felled prey,
And fought to be victorious -
But not in our way...
For Aedys - Great Aedys, Green Aedys;
The breast from that my Mother and Father were fed,
The sweet scent of your summers, the fruit of your trees,
When we fought, were the thoughts in our head.
The whispering creeks and roaring gorges,
The crackling forests, the rustling hills
For beauty, my land, that yours is
Men have rushed to be stilled.
It seems that now for us you grieve,
Your men - who've tended your bloom,
It seems an ashen, weeping land that I leave;
So stricken am I by your gloom.
Yet when I have become the soil itself,
And these last breaths you take as Spring air;
You'll again gift our victors a Summer of wealth -
And seduce them in your charm, I swear.
Great Aedys, Green Aedys;
Then they'll fight for you,
With the stumbling urge that was ours;
And then please, O Aedys,
Forsake them too -
Of your valleys, your shores and your stars.
Copyright Yafeu-Khamisi Rodway-Brown
This rain sodden soil hath become my bed,
The last men slain strewn now as my sheet;
And I'll not long wait to join in slumber the dead,
Once from mine heart be wrested each beat.
The din of this great war so distant now seems...
So far from the place I am lain;
Atop this fogged valley so faint are the screams,
Cross the land that the enemy claims.
O Great Aedys,
What a sullen face you show these brutes.
Green Aedys,
What little wonder you must seem to enemy troops.
And how they've fought with such bloodlust;
So starved of felled prey,
And fought to be victorious -
But not in our way...
For Aedys - Great Aedys, Green Aedys;
The breast from that my Mother and Father were fed,
The sweet scent of your summers, the fruit of your trees,
When we fought, were the thoughts in our head.
The whispering creeks and roaring gorges,
The crackling forests, the rustling hills
For beauty, my land, that yours is
Men have rushed to be stilled.
It seems that now for us you grieve,
Your men - who've tended your bloom,
It seems an ashen, weeping land that I leave;
So stricken am I by your gloom.
Yet when I have become the soil itself,
And these last breaths you take as Spring air;
You'll again gift our victors a Summer of wealth -
And seduce them in your charm, I swear.
Great Aedys, Green Aedys;
Then they'll fight for you,
With the stumbling urge that was ours;
And then please, O Aedys,
Forsake them too -
Of your valleys, your shores and your stars.
Copyright Yafeu-Khamisi Rodway-Brown