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The roses and ravens within every soul

leave all thoughts forgotten, and give you your role

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Oh to be a warrior poet. Keen with both blade and pen. A dream, a fading star, rekindled.

A collection of Umeneri Helara's poetry.

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Untitled

She knows she's not awaited
wherever she is found.

At times as a fair maiden's song
or foreign as a hound.

Perhaps her price is paid in health
or plague, or by fate's bounds,

or misery of aging, 
or wars on bloodied ground.

We move with her to save ourselves,
through towns bereft of sound, 

a single ghostly retinue,
a gray and hollow crowd,

Where we're awaited patiently
not by a hearth nor crown,

but by the windswept wastes beyond
where melancholy's found.

And so on northern riverbanks,
along the crooked roads,

beyond the swamps of days long past,
where silver cliffs doth grow,

through windbreaks over withered grass,
whose dew laments an ode,

upon untrodden fields we pass,
dried foliage below.

Though lights have long since dimmed to ash,
and we are from home,

our leaden feet leave trails, alas,
on freshly laden snow.

Yet we have gone and long surpassed
the world that we have known,

for we all say farewell at last
when Death takes what she's owed.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Blood-River

Will you look to me, Blood-River, nigh?
See my wings have been mended.
How I flew to a far foreign sky,
your streams do not remember.
Now my body is ichor and strife,
and my veins have been tempered.
Yet your tears are still water of life,
and our ties can't be ended.

I will soar like the falcons with haste,
closer still to the heavens.
I will tread past the woods and the lakes,
to the fields where I've not been.
I will leave shadows there in my wake,
when the silver clouds darken.
I will cast off my shame and my hate,
As my spirit is leavened.

How am I to return and achieve
what you wanted, Blood-River?
Now the roads back are shrouded and cleaved;
they are lost to the aether.
All those summers and autumns deceived,
with their strange, bitter weather.
While the ice is still thin I must leave,
and forget you forever.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Saviour

Raze
The village
The order is given
The words of a madman
The chaos of war

Gaze
Upon them
The things that were taken
The people now broken
in rubble and gore

Rays
Of sunlight
Will break through the darkness
Will crack through the silence
Sweep ash from the floor

Blaze
Anew then
The strings sing your praises
The moon slowly rises
It's lonely no more

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The Jackal and the Prince

At early dawn, the hungry jackal sits atop the hill.
He looks below, where a grim retinue begins to spill.
Today is a dark day - the Lord of all the World is dead.
Both young and old cannot withhold their tears and mounting dread.

He was a kindly ruler, he was the Sun and Moon.
His empire now remains a widow left alone.

He will be buried in a nephrite coffin in the steppe.
A place so far away, where only beasts like jackals crept.
A thousand horses' hooves will trample out the paths and roads,
so weeping wanderers will not disturb his rest with woes.

The jackal rasps a cry, of blood ties with the king.
The same old fangs and greed, because they are but kin:

"It is all a lie, that he was the most noble lord.
It is all a lie, for he ruled with fire and sword.
It is all a lie, I'm your king and you'll do as I say.
Men with power become beasts at the end of the day.

It is all a lie."

The jackal is then cursed by shamans, hierophants, and priests. 
A rider gallops forth to pierce with spear the traitor-beast.
None have the right to cast a sacred king down from the heavens.
No less, an animal resigned to scavenging the barrens.

But then a laugh is heard - the Prince, son of the king.
The same old fangs and greed, because they are but kin.

It is all a lie, that he'll be the most noble lord.
It is all a lie, for he'll rule with fire and sword.
It is all a lie, he's your king and you'll do as he'll say.
Men with power become beasts at end of the day.

It is all a lie.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Roses and Ravens

Roses and ravens,
sunlight and dust.
It seems, all in all,
Fate's dealing is just.
Time halts for no man,
and conscience is gone.
For some there are coffins,
while others meet dawn.
The roses and ravens
within every soul
leave all thoughts forgotten
and give you your role.
And when all is lost then,
both honour and pride,
just hope your last prayer
will not be denied.

Roses and ravens, roses and ravens.
Roses and ravens, both day and night.
Roses and ravens, roses and ravens,
Roses and ravens - in my heart they fight.

To fly or to crawl.
To burn or to rot.
There is no more time left,
yet more must be bought.
There is no choice given,
yet one must be made.
For some there are coffins,
for others - the blade.
All of our angels
know each of our times.
And so they will fly down
and punish our crimes.
The heart may be saddened
as grief overflows,
but know it was willed
by both raven and rose.

Roses and ravens, roses and ravens.
Roses and ravens, both day and night.
Roses and ravens, roses and ravens,
Roses and ravens - in my heart take flight.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Leaves

A leaf falling from a tree,
in the autumn light it gleams.
With no family it dances
like an artist, it is free.

A leaf falling from a tree.

It's alone for all the world,
and its wings are now unfurled.
It grows drunk from all this freedom,
as towards the ground it whirls.

It's alone for all the world.

If the leaves could only know
to enjoy their dance quite slow,
after which they will be lying
in the mud and dirt below.

If the leaves could only know.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The Moon Over the Ruined Castle - Umeneri Translation

Cherry blossoms over fields under ruined walls.
Cups of sake passed around in that castle's halls.
Moonlight shone upon the cups, through the great pine sprawls.
Where is that old moonlight now?

Encampment in autumn night, covered in white frost.
Geese were crying in the sky as they flew across.
Moonlight shone upon those swords, on the ground left tossed.
Where is that old moonlight now?

Now at midnight see the moon, rising in the sky.
For whom does it shine once more, as in times gone by?
On that ruined rampart high, ivy grows and winds.
There is that old moonlight now.

Moon and stars hang in the sky, they are prearranged.
But in mortal life below, rise and fall are staged.
Does the moon know as it hangs, does it watch the change?
There is that old moonlight now.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

I am

I am a tool, I am a blade.
Of jagged metal I am made.
My foes and friends should be afraid,
because with blood my price is paid.

A blade knows only how to take,
leave misery there in its wake;
and when at last it's set to break
It's cast into a gore-filled lake.

No more excuses, no more stains.
No more unwanted, wretched pain.
The stars have willed that I am bane,
And so I'll be till I am slain.

I am aware that such is fate.
I am deserving of your hate.
But soon the blade, too, will ablate.
And I am left only to wait.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Calm

Calm, and our ship is adrift.
The wind, it fell silent today.
Calm, and the sails will not lift. 
Alone, all we do now is pray.

Names and faces gone,
We've forsaken all.
With the coming dawn,
Our salvation stalled.

Calm, now the madness will spread.
The heat, smells of salty black tar.
Soon, one of us will be dead.
And we, we will show who we are.

For his flesh and blood
will do well to sate,
And perhaps some god
Will reward his fate.

What awaits? The scorching sea keeps quiet.
Thirst to live drowns out all other wants.
Only here, life's worth is very pliant.
Others' lives, but not your own.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Defiance of the Spire

A beacon called the Spire rises.
It calls out to both man and beast.
From Albern's Crossing, it apprises,
To mighty Amafells out East. 
There were those that were here before us.
Now, but a monument remains.
That is the secret of these forests:
Nothing is lasting, all must change.

This promise of new life and welfare,
Away from burdens of the past,
Brings many of us here from elsewhere,
Working together, peace at last.
And yet, fell whispers break the silence.
Through fabrications, honeyed words,
Some seek to force us to compliance;
Be warned, your slander has been heard.

What makes you think we are unsteady?
What makes you think we are alone?
With hands on weapons at the ready,
We see the chaos you have sown. 
Our boots may be well-worn and muddied,
For we have travelled from afar,
But we fear not to leave them bloodied,
Nor do we hide our many scars.

If you care not for peace and order,
Make your intentions loud and clear.
Your words will find scarce few supporters,
You have no means to cause us fear.
Then, you may circle us like vultures.
But, just so everything is set,
The town here has a certain culture,
Response in kind for every threat:

One fact that zealots should remember —
Your faith in dreams requires sleep.
We do not care for such surrender,
So all your vessels — you can keep.
But should your ivy grow and blight us,
And all your lamps still shine like pests,
Remain assured, the Spire obliges —
You'll dream forever in your rest.

The offer stands as well to bandits,
Who crawl out from their fetid swamps.
You're bold of tongue, you propagandists,
With little else behind your pomp.
So take your cursed coins and intrigue,
That sickness that you wish to spread,
And spend your efforts in your own league.
Sort out your own house, as is said.

As for the courtiers and the claimants —
You should return beyond the Wall.
Conscience is not worth all your payments,
And soon your kingdoms, too, will fall.
If you want subjects, you have plenty.
If you want land, go fight your wars.
Folk in the Reach can be quite friendly,
but they are free; they are not yours.

Yet if you bring the Valkian spear-tip,
If you know not our way of steel,
If you would self-appoint a lordship,
If you would still demand we kneel,
Then send your numbers without number,
Your errant knights, your goaded slaves,
The Reach's fields have room to slumber —
And they'll know well their brethren's graves.

Know this: Such is the Spire's defiance.
Best do away with your charades.
We do not spurn trusted alliance,
But sword-bringers die by their blades.
And as they rot in earthy wreckage,
Their bones in coffins well-arranged, 
One epitaph will be their message:
Nothing is lasting, all must change.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

On the Frontier (Ode to Clan Laolieri)

The bank is a cliff but we are not deterred.
Beneath the dark mists, the river is heard.
Yonder, the foreigner-land is observed.
The Sacred Peace will still not be disturbed.

With falcon-like vigil, we watch the frontier.
With talons of cruelty, their souls will be sheared.
With beaks forged of iron, with blades and with spears,
With smoldering arrows, death always walks near.

Within narrow gorges, across the wide plains,
To serve on the borders of Uul'san domains.
Where only the raven-black steed in your reins
and comrades beside you will share in your pains.

The weapons are tempered, our grip is composed; 
The northern and western cordons are closed.
Strike first without fear against those opposed.
Preserve this periphery, or meet our repose. 

The treacherous foe crosses through the steep pass.
Their Adarkhin swordwork will shatter like glass.
The shore will grow corpses in withering grass,
And names will be lost, tossed aside on these paths.

With beastly ferocity, we hold the frontier.
With claws that grip throats of the foe cavaliers,
With grave, mortal wounds, without any fear,
With a reckoning arrow, our ruin is here.

Let it be so that we die in this land.
Our honour will know we fulfilled its demands.
No flinching, no breaking, we fall where we stand.
Only one meets the dawn with sword held in hand.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Flame

Everything is pain, the wise ones often say
And likewise every flame will burn out some day
The wind will scatter ashes,
Leaving not a trace.

But while it still burns, and for its warmth we yearn,
There is naught to mourn and one must strive to learn
To keep it in tough times,
When the cold returns.

Since the night is long, we dread when flame is gone.
Its heat must keep us strong so wasting wood is wrong.
Best to keep to yourself
To meet the coming dawn.

But it happens sometimes that an eccentric arrives,
And this stranger, unwise, will bring their flame to rise,
With all of their spare firewood,
High up into the skies.

The wise ones look beyond, and say this act is flawed.
The fire causes awe, and burns out in an hour odd.
But in that single hour
Every other heart is thawed.

Not everything is fated, not everything is stated.
The colours of the day are far from having faded.
No reason to spare flame —
Its warmth will not be wasted.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Moth

Silly little moth
Burning on a candle
Flame is much too hot
For the wings to handle
Stars will fall in sorrow
On the weathered porch
Moth meets no tomorrow
If it seeks the torch.

Lamp light gives no heat
Wood is softly creaking
Spear to rend through meat
Wife will be left weeping
Pen can break the sword
Rose will have to wither
Temple to a word
Are the dreamers listeners?

Soldiers are not born
Soldiers are the dying
Moths are not forlorn
Moths can still be flying
Nature gave cruel love
Pain is their desire
Soar from high above
To perish in the fire.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The Dead

The dead do not smoulder, do not burn
They do not grow older, do not learn
The dead do not moulder, do not rot
They do not know cold, and do not plot
The dead do not sow, nor do they reap
They do not fall slower, do not weep
They do not sink lower, nor regret
They do not remember, nor forget.

The dead will not argue, will not want
They will never hate you, will not flaunt
The dead will not charm you, will not sing
They will never praise you, will not cling
The dead will not fail you, will not sweat
They will not be saviours, nor take debts
The dead will never waver, nor persist
They will not ask favours, nor assist.

The dead are not breathing, are not wise
They are not deceiving, are not spies
The dead are not sleeping, nor awake
They are not believed in, are not fake
The dead are never leaving, never here
They are not left grieving, are not feared
They are not forgiving, with no thoughts
They are not the living, they cannot.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Not for Me

Oh, not for me
Will springtime come
And not for me will snows be fleeting
There, where a maiden’s heart is beating
An anxious drum
But not for me.

And not for me
Will gardens spring
The fields will grow warm like a furnace
There, where the nightingale meets Vernus
And it will sing
But not for me.

And not for me
Will rivers race
Clear as a diamond as they twisted
There, where a lonely girl once whispered
And so she waits
But not for me.

And not for me
Will days go by
Until the next Hangawi season
There, where all gather for that reason
And sing with wine
But not for me.

And so for me
A piece of steel
Through my soft flesh will be delivered
Warm blood will spill forth like a river
That is the deal
That waits for me.

A single bitter tear will quiver
That is the deal
That waits for me.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Beyond the Seventh Pass

In this world there is a flower
Burning scarlet in its hue
With most wondrous, ardent power
Shining bright amongst the yew.

Sunny and unprecedented
Blooming when the daylight gleams
Hope springs up where it is scented
Often, is it called a dream.

All hold on to one desire
Find that blossom oh-so-rare
Carmine like a raging fire
Joyful like the open air.

Many seek it in the mountains
No matter the climb or snow.
Through the sonorous dew fountains
And yet not all find it, no.

Maybe in the final hour
Breath as fresh as wind will flare
And we’ll find that sacred flower
And that special feeling there.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Judgement

There is a ruin not far away
It draws me to it, both night and day
A place to hear what your forbearers say
A place for guidance, to lead the way
To feel your plight and embrace it.

I sometimes look down into that spring
I see my ancestors reflecting
I feel the pain of the song they sing
Of strife and labour and suffering
Their burden —  mine, so I face it.

The spirits take, and the spirits give
Some receive barely enough to live.
Others get plenty, and unto me
They bestowed penance and legacy.
And I can never neglect it. 

It is my fate and my right of birth
Forever bloodbound to frozen earth
An offer greater than my own worth
A solemn duty, not gift of mirth.
So I shall ever protect it.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Into Frost and Night

The wind will disperse dying flames of the sunset,
A gauntlet will shudder to dim the last lights.
To combat so hopeless, to battle so sudden,
The cold-blackened fingers bite deep into ice.

The shivering hand will draw shut, for the last time,
The eyes of the fallen who faithfully served.
In sorrow, now darkening under the night sky,
Rough scars of mass graves are forever preserved.

Here all stands against you: the limitless welkin,
The crags and the ridges, the horizons blue.
The souls are now empty, the blizzards are haughty. 
Words freeze on your lips like the cold morning dew.

Fiercer and crueler the winds will be howling,
Faster and closer, the raven now flies. 
Greater and higher the mounds will be rising.
Of gnarled, broken corpses thus stacked up in piles.

An avalanche of boots sounds out from the cliffside.
The foe rushes down from those slopes to the fray.
Again, they are sent against us by lord Eiji,
From dawn until dusk and from night into day.

No time to consider! The order is given; 
Turn into a blade, and cut through their chain.
The thoughts of what lie there, beyond, in oblivion —
Forget them and just clench your teeth through the strain.

The notion that we fight and die all in vain here,
Who told you such words, my comrades-in-arms?
With us is, as always, our forefathers’ glory,
Our faith, and our purpose to keep us from harm.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Sleepless Nights, Dreamless Knights

The air on those heights, unexpectedly thin
Unexpectedly quiet, no lament from the wind
Nature mourns not those knights left to rot.
Cut down by the dozen, slopes slicked in their gore
For words from a prophet they shalln't hear anymore
All that devotion turned out to be naught. 

Poor sheep to the pen, now ready for slaughter,
All armoured crusaders must sink in the water,
As moths on the lamp must be burned in its fire. 
So many that followed this treacherous route
So many that fell in pursuit of your fruit
But dealing in dreams often names you the liar.

The legends do lie — your heroes will die,
No vessel will keep the drowning alive. 
The road only leads to an ever-darker ravine.
The nights of insomnia will turn into days,
And everything promised will fade in a blaze,
For sleepless Knights find no salvation in dreams.

There is but one end left to this whole charade,
And only one ship that will come to your aid,
Your cries and your souls for the ferryman’s boat.
So heed not your visions, but take this as promise:
The hour of your judgement will soon be upon us,
And Templars turned carrion will nevermore float.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The Devil Waits For Me

Late at night, 
all alone
I am lost on 
the winding path back home.
Blame is mine, 
I can see
And I know now 
the devil waits for me. 

All the dreams, 
pain and lies
Sin and passions, 
laid before my eyes.
Efforts all 
made for free
And now only 
the devil waits for me.

Moon above,
still once more.
And the road back
is stranger than before.
Up ahead, 
ragged trees
Somewhere there, where 
the devil waits for me.

Laughing still 
in the night
And the hangman’s
noose he holds is tight.
Flame awaits
me with glee
So I know that 
the devil waits for me.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Pitch-Black Raven

Pitch-black raven, pitch-black raven,
You have flown to far-off lands.
Will you tell me what you saw there,
By the northern river bend?

Are there many, are there fewer
Undefeated enemies?
Have they raised their pikes and sabers
To come bring us to our knees?

“Hosts of foes have stood there gathered
By the northern river bend.
They will guest here uninvited
So your vigil cannot end.

Long they've sharpened bodkin arrows
And the battle will be fierce.
You will lie beneath the willows
With your heart having been pierced.”

But if such is what must happen
And the battle takes my life,
Then you fly home, pitch-black raven,
You must tell my noble wife;

Tell her so she shalln't be worried, 
That I love another more.
That forever I am married 
To the scarlet hills of war.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Plague

In the cold
Bordered gold
Faded icons are worn
Absolute
Destitute
Harrowed spirit is torn
You are one
Soon are gone
In the host of dead stars
Here from me
And to thee
Corpse pits stretch out like scars.

Between pillars, wailing resounds
Blizzard torments those lost in the grime
Through broken windows of empty towns
In blind huts of deaf hamlets, frozen in time.
Along the roadways the plague walks
Day after day mauling souls on its trail.
In decaying stench of infested barracks
Where the sick are treating the hale.

Nauseous flood
Hacking blood
Drunk on poison of wrath
Decompose
In death’s throes
Sate the hunger of rats
With the last
Broken fast
Have your carrion feast
On the bed
Swelling dread
Rot alive like a beast.

Widows roam out in this hinterland
A whirlwind, a serpent hissing with hate
Waving on with its bony hand
At the threshold, a black death awaits.
Mortalkind is a flickering flame
Fades like smoke when the springtime arrives
Chanting now the swan song of shame
The ruins whisper of harvested lives.

Culling call
Slaughter all
Crowds left dull-eyed in chains
Worthless toil
Bring to boil
Porous, fermented brains
Hurry now
Take a vow
As a pestilent slave
Life will fly
Quickly by
To a mark at the grave.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bonfires

Autumn played out its song like a wildfire,
Like a vulture, the smoke circles low. 
On the burial mounds and departure pyres, 
Ashes herald the coming of snow.

Rusted swords will be drawn from the scabbards soon,
Come the morning, they’ll drink bloody brew. 
And the bonfires’ tongues, singing scarlet tune, 
Will bring hope to the broken anew. 

We were given farewell by our hills as thus:
To fight hard, not to yield, and endure.
And the clean rivers whispered their words to us, 
To ensure that our hearts remain pure;

Of our ancestors, their sacred memory,
Of the land, whose existence we serve,
Of the bonfires that burn through the centuries,
And our valour that they will preserve. 

Where the dawn washed itself in the morning mist,
Where the dusk burned away into dark,
Stubborn winds carry grim portents in our midst
But our deeds will be sung by the lark.

And we will be recalled in music and poem,
And a feast will be held when snow breaks, 
And for those who will never return back home,
Those same bonfires light funeral wakes.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Pitch-Black Raven (II)

Pitch-black raven, do not circle
Far over this field of gore.
You will not find any prey here,
Pitch-black raven, I’m not yours.

Why do you still flash your talons,
Why do you still search and soar?
Do you sense your feast is coming?
Pitch-black raven, I’m not yours.

Mortal wounds I will wrap tightly
With my darling’s gifted shawl,
Then I will be left alone here
Speaking to you on this knoll. 

Fly away back to my homeland,
Find my aging mother there.
Tell her that I fought with honour,
that I fell in battle fair.

Take with you this bloodied mantle,
Carry it to my beloved.
Bring her news that she is free now;
To another I am wed.

My new wife, so silent, patient
Found me by this field and hedge
And the match was made in heaven
By my saber’s crooked edge.

Scorching arrow bound me to her,
Took my warmth in fated war.
I can feel her, Death, approaching
Pitch-black raven, I am yours.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Yuanyang Yu

Day has dimmed, overcast gloom brews
Fires melt in the port of Yuanyang Yu.
Won’t you wait, Wind? It’s no time for anger—
Calm your fury and lighten our anchors!

Beyond tight formations of this pale armada,
The simmering shadows of red-bannered squadrons.
It is nigh—meet Death’s call, courageous,  
On these open seas, Mori devils await us.

Howls of seagulls herald our ending,
The harrowing sight of moonlight-pretending, 
But no purse nor throne will now be our saviour
For the Spirits of War respect laws and not favours!

Instead of routine corrupt judges and juries, 
The broadside responds in a salvo of fury.
A deluge of flames erupts from the breaches,
The steel of the ruptures draw blood like they’re leeches.

In battle, between us and the Morian horde—
But a boiling abyss for those now overboard.
Still the dark, raging waves will recall in an age
The brave warriors who struck fear from this page.

Like a knife tearing through the aorta, 
Mines screech along hulls and there will be no quarter.
A sole afterthought of all the destruction, 
Life flashes by seconds ‘fore the eruption.

In death-stricken agony, bodies convulse
Amidst moans and fire and the faltering pulse.
There is no escaping the dark, acrid gas
Our moment of parting has come now, alas!

Soon, a new dawn will reveal this expanse,
Broken vessels and bodies sunk low in their dance.
Beneath the sea foam and within morning haze
The graves of the warriors with unbroken gaze.

Instead of awards, Fate’s sole gift to our crew
Was the boiling abyss in the deep, roiling blue.
Flattery is foreign to the cold hand of Death
But Uul’sanese honour is in each final breath.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Wind in the Willows

Distant thunder, downpour
Yellowing grass, hay sprawled
Autumn leaves, faint smoke 
The scent of wind in the willows.

Where the weald grows like a wall
Impenetrable, dark, commanding
There, you and I for all
time are parting.

I would have left sooner
I would have left later
But I hear howling once more
The sound of wind in the willows.

I would become a star in the sky
I would become cold woodland fog
And through me the wind would blow
The wailing wind in the willows.

Where the weald grows like a wall
Impenetrable, dark, commanding
There, you and I for all
time are parting.

In tired eyes, teardrops
In open palms, pale ashes
Again, calling on the stormclouds,
The raging wind in the willows.

A gray morose twilight
Is concealing the sunshine
And all that is left is the wind now
The lonely wind in the willows.

Nearing tragedy, melancholy
A single fate, sorrowful
Familiar lost soul, wandering
The essence of wind in the willows.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The Knight and the Queen

Through the village a caravan rolled,
Her fair visage a sight to behold.
To his knees he fell, mystified whole,
“I will swear now to give you my soul!”

In response he heard cold, distant words.
“There is no place for your soul aboard.
Maybe later you will be adored,
But for now, you can serve as a sword.”

So he served with both heart and with deed
Walked through wars because such was decreed
Hands now calloused, scars no longer bleed,
And a cold smile was all she would cede.

Never once did he ask for reward
Only caught her cold glances when they occurred
Yet the hour struck, the knight’s conscience roared
Seeing now he was blind and had evil ignored

He entered her chambers with no armour nor glove
Through a two-handed sword found redemption thereof.
Stained in crimson on sheets white as a dove,
Both the knight and the queen who did not know love.
Lying dead in the chambers above,
Both the knight and the queen who never knew love.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Ode to New Spring

Strong winds are blowing over the lakes
Darkened storming clouds rolling from Tumu-Naek
Here I stand as the world falls apart
With a righteous anger burning in my heart.

Highborn men act for power and might
Their souls hold no duty to the common people's plight
Monied elites only think of their gain
Worthless to them is the nation's soil and grain.

Disgrace under heaven grows evermore vast
Harmony and honour; now memories of the past
Our world used to praise the glory that had been
But where is the splendour that we had once seen?

Thus the land laments as it slowly decays
Ignorant masses remain dancing day by day
In this nightmare of politics and shame
Governance and rule for them become a checkers game.

In the coming spring when virtue is restored
Righteous are the ones who stand ready with their sword
Simmering vengeance roils in their blood
Thousands like cherry blossoms ready for the flood.

Fame and status are figments of a dream
Truth and discipline as tools will reign supreme
Cast it aside—lowly will of mortal life
The strongest of laws rests on the edge of a knife.

The shameful lament will be put to rest
A new hopeful ode will be rising in the west
The sword that is drawn will strike a mighty blow
Dancing in the crimson of the traitors left cut low.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Final Farewell

Hello, dear dungeons of the king, where slaves toil lives away
I meet a platform and a noose upon this clouded day.
On battlefields, among the blades, I faced Death—head unbowed,
But never did I shudder there, I will not shudder now.

In conflict I have spent my life, and for my work of sword,
A traitor sold my life away for pittance of reward.
Remove these chains, return my mail, and hand me back my maul
Release your bravest fighters forth, I will defeat them all.

Before I die, within my soul, there is but one regret—
That none will take revenge for the injustice I have met.
Farewell, my men, farewell, my land, and all beneath the sky!
I pity those who wait for death without daring to die. 

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Guide Me to the World

Guide me to the world
Commander
Where there is no war

Where there is no fight
And your might
Does not make you right

Show me through the space
With no slaves
And without disgrace

Maybe tomorrow
But right now
There is no such place

Neither is nor was
Maybe in the future will be
None of us will see it
Simply because we are people
Because of the swords
Poisons, arrows, lances, portals
Because no matter the words
We are only mortals.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

WOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My goodness, you're an incredibly gifted wordsmith.
I can confirm, my tear ducts are in fact still working... O_O,

Added "Pitch Black Raven," "Plague," "Bonfires," and "Pitch Black Raven (II)"

Long overdue update!

Added:

• Yuanyang Yu
• Wind in the Willows
• The Knight and the Queen
• Ode to New Spring
• Final Farewell
• Guide Me to the World