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Poetry
Sept 13, 2015 2:09:00 GMT
Post by Pan Kristoff Drevo on Sept 13, 2015 2:09:00 GMT
Here, you can post any of your favorite poems and talk about them. I'll start out with my all-time favorite, "The Minstrel Boy," by Thomas Moore. Not our patron, just someone else with a similar name. I can play an arrangement of this on the piano. I even made this Quailia's military anthem.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him. His father's sword he has girded on, With his wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song," said the warrior bard, "Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee."
The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under. The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore it's cords asunder. And said "No chain shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery, Thy songs were made for the pure and free, they shall never sound in slavery."
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Poetry
Sept 16, 2015 17:25:42 GMT
Post by Sir Benedict on Sept 16, 2015 17:25:42 GMT
Now I'm not much of a poetry person, but I've always been a fan of "Lepanto" by G.K. Chesterton. It's not completely representative of how I view the battle from a historical standpoint, but it is fun to romanticize something good every once in a while.
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Poetry
Sept 21, 2015 17:23:56 GMT
Post by Pan Kristoff Drevo on Sept 21, 2015 17:23:56 GMT
Ah, yes, that's a great poem. Have you read his Ballad of the White Horse?
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Post by Paolo Emilio I of Trebia on Sept 22, 2015 3:06:18 GMT
La Última Gaviota, or The Last Seagull, is a Poem written by Panamanian author Ricardo Miró
Como una franja temblorosa, rota del manto de la tarde, en raudo vuelo se esfuma la bandada por el cielo buscando, acaso, una ribera ignota.
Detrás, muy lejos, sigue una gaviota que con creciente y pertinaz anhelo va de la soledad rasgando el velo por alcanzar la banda ya remota.
De la tarde surgió la casta estrella, y halló siempre volando a la olvidada, de la rauda patrulla tras la huella.
Historia de mi vida compendiada, porque yo soy, cual la gaviota aquella, ave dejada atrás por la bandada.
Which translated, reads:
As a shaky stripe, broken in the mantle of the afternoon in swift flight the flock disappears in the sky looking, perhaps, for an unknown shore.
Behind, far away, still a seagull with growing and persistent yearning with loneliness goes tearing the veil to reach the now remote flock.
From the afternoon emerged the shining star, and he found always flying to the forgotten, the swift patrol on the trail.
Abridged story of my life, because I am, what the seagull that, Bird left behind by the flock.
The translation is not perfect, but that is my favorite poem.
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