Once it was a Red king made for many wars. He had the stare of death he created upon his path and from his helmet to his swords he swore to conquer all he could in his lifetime. He had survived so much from an early age and build his flesh like a mountain. Battles after battles he expanded his power and supremacy from the center of the massive island to its shores.
One misty dawn, however, saw his fall from the hand of a mud and clay man named Mismo. In the middle of the fury of his last battle, the voices of thousands of dying men where echoing in a deep valley so green and lush you knew it was kissed often by curtains of rains. The air was thick of the silky sound of the metal entering human flesh, mud shallowing the feet entering the kingdom of death, their leader following his best warriors all tricked into a cowardly trap. Yes you must say: Glory doesn’t come easy. Before his last breath the king was caught in a time frozen gap where he saw his own death as a pearl ghost image of his wife smiling cruelly. Mismo sword came from behind and in one swift gesture detached the warrior’s head from his broad shoulders.
Mismo was sleeping in the pearl queen’s bed long before the ultimate battle. It is then he encountered the first taste of power while the king was too busy claiming his conquests. So it was in a steady but natural process that he climbed to the throne and marry the young widow.
From this unions a diamond girl was born. She was glittering and round. As years passed the more she was spoiled the plumper she became to the point of not being able to move by herself. By then she was woman, not child and her royal parents were called back to the void of the universe leaving to her a massive kingdom to govern. She had holes for eyes matching only her hollowness and a tongue so pointy she was transpiercing her food before shallowing it.
The ocean became dark and still from her reign and the population was in great threat of disappearing from the many tantrums’ the princess was throwing at her court. One of them unbalanced the natural process of reproduction, as she asked all pretty girls to be sacrificed to a new deity she created in her own image. Only beauty was acceptable in a male body, and all the men were there to serve her. Her vainness was only match by the ones of all these young males surrounding her following their greed of power and ignoring love. In permanent needs of more gifts and attention she missed happiness when it finally appeared at her door under the features of a very plain older man. His subdued beauty annoyed her so much she asked her mignons to cast him away, but in their hurry to do so a fight occurred and the man suddenly disappear leaving behind him a mesmerizing turquoise glow that lasted for days.
The light was addictive to the young monarch and she asked to search for the mysterious man who had the obscene pretention to escape her will. She desired everyday more and more to feel the fresh light upon the horizon and to give the oceans a glimpse of their old color. The mignons searched high and low in the soft water of the inland falls, in the flames of the many volcanoes and walked the entire shores of the island. However one morning, groups of them found something they had never seen before: A beautiful woman and as more were coming they all fell into her spell. She was the spirit of all these young souls sacrificed before their teens in one single body, empowered by all this land had lost. She was life coming back to battle the empty womb of the island. She asked them one thing and for once all obeyed out of passion and not out of greed:
As a pack of rats they went back to the princess and one after the other breed with her. From these stale unions black dried rocks were born. One for each man and their ignorance, one for each girl killed. One birth after another, the beautiful maiden carried the stones to the ocean in and steady pace.
When in contact with the water waves begun to ripples the surface, something that didn’t occurred for many years. Some stones turned into colorful fishes and others into corals and vegetation. The water mirrored the blue of the sky above, a dark deep royal blue.
The spirits woman then went slowly into the ocean letting the waves caress her ethereal body and as her pleasure culminated the surf pounded the edge of the land. Slowly she went back to her original shape as the turquoise man. His powerful glow emanating from his waist, expended around him to turn back the ocean to the most breathtaking color.
Reblogged this on Ancien Hippie.
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Haaapppy neeew yeaaar, Agnes! Thank you for all the beautiful moments, which you give me in this year! In Romania it is customary to make gifts in this final period of the year. You are far from me and I can not to do a physical gift. So I’m going to do a spiritual gift. Some time ago, I told you, that I’m passionate about poetry and I have another blog, where I write poetry in Romanian. Now I asked to my Romanian blog-friend Nicol (https://doarnicol.wordpress.com/), to translate one of my poems in English. Since she have advanced study of English and is also an excellent poet, he did more than a translation. She made an adaptation, showing that a poem written in English. The story is the same, but the rhythm and rhymes were adapted by Nicol for better look in English. I can not imagine how you perceive these verses (they were conceived for Romanian language), but I want that them to be a little gratitude from me, for your artistic work in this year!
Autumn Nostalgia (Autumn Longing)
Deeply carving their way down the cheek
Time scratching marks on the wandering soul
With the nail of silence,
Pointing at the hardened heart,
Seeming to have been vibrating
Up until yesterday.
Neither song nor rhyme
Nor colour zest,
From their sad arrest.
Dancing around swirling gently
The mild Zephyr breeze,
Carrying in his arms the leaf, a sweet recover
That in the spring he held close as his lover.
He lays her down carefully
Whilst she is dreaming silently,
For the last time.
The Zephyr jolts lively
In a brave whirl,
And then a sudden crash
Among the clouds up high,
Within the crane-tormented sky.
After all that, down my lonely look I bring
And searching for an answer in your eyes,
I roam along unknown blissful skies
I wonder… will I be here in the spring?…
A good translation is always an adaptation and not knowing the original I can only say with all my heart this is a subtle caress to a soul.
It has beauty, elegance and images me as a photographer find inspiring.
Thank you so much to share this jewels with me. It made its way to a treasure box.
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Wow..that was ..I’m going to use an old word..trippy. Do you read Joyce Carol Oates?
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I know of her but never read her