luni, 29 august 2011

Luptele de la Grivita - Partea 1 -







Ascultati'ma copii.
Era odata in ere vechi si batrane un Roman.
Un luptator.
Si Romanul asta a luptat in mari razboaie.
Povestea de astazi este despre primele batalii din razboiul sau.
Romanul a fost trezit de mama lui batrana si cu inima cat un purece. Trebuia trezit de mama lui caci a planificat strategiile de lupte toata noaptea.
Biata lui mama avea inima cat un purice.
Ca'si pierde pruncul in batalii.
El loial in fata Universului era.
In capul lui rasunau cuvintele "Memento Mori"
Si a plecat ca un astru efemer spre batalii cu armele sale in geanta diplomat.
Era pregatit sa atace pe oricine.
Din pacate o avea doar pe iubita lui ancestrala Muza langa el in suflet.
O fata Romanca ce patimea'n al ei suflet in tacere.
Ii transpirau palmele si era ingrijorata.
Fluctua biata fatuca intre siguranta puterii luptatorului ei si frica vrajbei Zeilor ce ii cereau luptatorului mult sange.
Si a ajuns in campul de lupta Romanul asta.
Si privi in jurul lui.
Ce vedea acolo trecea de nivelul scarbei. A decis sa se inchida in el si sa aibe incredere in el.
Nu a binecuvantat trupele lui inainte de bataliilor deoarece stia ca vor lupta oricum pana la ultima picatura de sange si ultima grea rasuflare.
Zeii au venit pe campul de lupta.
Unii buni altii malitiosi.
Au stabilit regulile si au dat semnalul de horn asupra inceperii bataliilor.
Luptatorul era pierdut intr-un camp de lupta lipsit de credinta,idealuri si viata.
Era inuman si neromanesc campul de batalie.
Zambea demonilor cu o diplomatie prostituata.
Si a continuat sa lupte.
A luptat si a luptat... patru batalii le'a castigat.
Una a pierdut'o deoarece gura i'a fost prea apriga in fata unui Zeu neroman ce voia din toata dorinta sa fie pierduta batalia.
Gura Luptatorului Roman a fost ascutita. Si'a aparat poporul si pamantul in fata terorii Zeului neroman.
Si'a riscat multe trupe. Multe sentimente. Multe zile din viata lui ca sa puna la punct Zeul neroman.
Iar o alta batalie el a pierdut'o sincer. A pierdut'o nereusind sa mai tina piept inamicului. A pierdut'o si si'a retras trupele la fel de mandre ca si cum ar castiga.
Ajuns acasa luptatorul ranit era blestemat de cosmare si ganduri negre.
Dar Muza lui a aparut. Iar trompete romanesti ale ancestralilor lui Eroii au rasunat in tot cerul instelat si calm doritor de sange la viitorul rasarit.
Razboiul va continua.
Asta e,copiii mei,povestea luptelor de la Grivita a Romanului.
Maine va spun al doilea grup de lupte ce Romanul le va duce.


luni, 22 august 2011

For The Queen.









Here you sit
O,greater Queen
You watch my moves
As you nod.
You may cry or you may laugh
Either way I am reborn
From ashes of your Rome I prepare to go to war.
And I raise my fist above
Yelling all to go and charge.
My dear Queen...trumpets of Heaven sing
While drums of Hell are played.
The Gods desire blood.
I kissed my wife and kids goodbye...
All Hail your honor,Queen,for we shall die for you.
Sadness falls once with the love.
The love for my troops who left are on the ground
The godless earth eats their blood.
I sit and watch them while cleaning my sword
I swear between lips while a tear washes a stain of blood.
We are exhausted,but we shall never fall.
England ours,and we shall not fall.
Raise your arms men,raise them high.
Raise them for the Gods to be blind in the sun that reflects in your armours ,sword and hearts
Kiss your horses and raise up. At arms my brother. At arms my children. Defend your families,defend your Queen and defend your country.
Charge my men...
...Three days of battle,they are not falling,we're not falling. In battle we cry of madness,after battle we cry of pain and during night we cry for our losts.
Bound in blood and sword.
I bury my sword in the soil to wash it from blood.
There is more blood on the field than water to drink...
I kneel looking at the stars senseless being lost in between Gods houses.
For...the Queen
I take out my sword and I see more blood stains. The earth is spilling blood. Earth is suffering while Gods are feasting.
I spit the rest of my saliva and put my head on my dead brother to sleep during night. Tomorrow...
For the Queen...
Brothers gather up!
You know for who to fight. You know for who to win. I can't say nothing anymore. Die and win!
The field looks the same...full of corpses...
We trample our dead brothers and dead enemies to fight.
We fall on their blood and flesh
Are the Gods pleased? Do they have enough blood? How much?
I swing my sword around my head hitting him in the heart
His head pumps the rest of her blood in my sword
I look in his eyes and there he is.
Falling..dying.
Are the Gods pleased? How much?
And fight...and fight...
And there still is water in me,for I see the sweat going down from my forehead.
My knees are shaking.
I can't bare my own weight.
I yell into heavens and hells shoving myself in my honourable adversary.
And we fight...and fight...
And we won.
And we're not laughing.
And we're not happy.
We just rally to go home...
We don't come home with treasures...but with bodies.
Are the Gods pleased?
How much?
For the Queen...

joi, 18 august 2011

Inhamare la Drum


Inhama-mi Spirite
Sufletu-mi la drum
Din mii si mii de stele
A mea cale'mi la un'ceput.

Printre entitati maiastre
Cu aripi ca de pasare.
Cu sentimente si placeri
Din frunza Maretului Tei.

Zambeste-mi lumina
Ca sa ma vad in oglinda
Sa ma pot citi
Dintr'o lacrima de crin.

Sa'ncep drumu'mi lung si anevoios
Si uneori foarte pietros
Dar in lumina eu sa vad
Al tau zambet de Zeu.