LL-L "Literature" 2005.05.08 (04) [D/E]

[Lowlands-L]

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L O W L A N D S - L * 08.JUN.2005 (04) * ISSN 189-5582 * LCSN 96-4226
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From: Ingmar Roerdinkholder <ingmar.roerdinkholder at WORLDONLINE.NL>
Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2005.06.05 (07) [E]

Mooi gemaakt, Arthur! Jouw creativiteit en fantasie werkt nog altijd goed.
Complimenten
Ingmar

>   John the Goth Rescues the Priestess Iona
>
>             By Arthur A. Jones
>             June 2005
>
>   That night I stole you from the caravan,
>        Bound up your auburn hair in sorrowing strands.
>   Then rode we two swift horses to the mountains
>        ---wet, dark hills,
>   When none would know your absence ‘til the dawn.
>
>   We’ll neither eat nor sleep, nor drop our guard,
>        You said at daybreak, paused and listened hard,
>   As hordes of warsteeds slipped through sandy shoals
>        ---eyes torch-fire red,
>   To slay the nomad priestess and her bard.
>
>   Our rocky, mossy perch above the fen
>        Was no fit shield against that tide of men,
>   Whose coming bade us choose ‘tween death and slavery
>        ---grab the reins!
>   We struggled down the cliff to safer glens.
>
>   We reached the vale of winding vines and groves,
>        Where once your clan held council, sang and wove.
>   Wellspring of your muse! Now smouldering farmsteads
>        ---splintered forts,
>   A treachery smoke-borne from Halja’s stove.
>
>   We’ll be not chattel for your sad sarai,
>        You said, as in the mist I saw you cry;
>   Not for yourself, but for a vanquished people
>        ---warrior nation,
>   As ravens shrieked of fat satraps and spies.
>
>   I’ll ride my ancient horse in this last battle-trial,
>        You said as winds whipped flames around your throne,
>   Now promise me I shall not die in exile
>        ---gadráuhtins mein,
>   I’ll promise you we shall not die alone.

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