Bulgária Ismét (Bulgaria Again)
The raze and wreck of Turkish troops
rent what was our land.
Yet only flesh and bone
was taken from the Bulkan hand.
Prélude:
I was fallen on the stone
with mightier men than me;
all my brothers in my arms asleep.
They and I-
we would never wake again
not to see our brown eyed girls
or to sing our Runic tales.
Réalité (après le Öldöklés):
Sofia burned.
I saw there many times now
the widows of windy souls
that clap on the shudders
and drift in the fountain pools.
The wolf is lapping
where Bulkan girls washed their hands
and spoke a jezyk far from ears.
It is silent in our ruins
from Turki
You are so welcome, Alexander...your work shows great promise, especially if you can execute it on a plain surface to accentuate the fine detail. Stay in touch! Susan