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SelfOfTheDivine Mar 2016
Furnace is dead, cogs have stopped turning.
With all destroyed, my workshop is gone.
Against me my own creations he has been using.
With everyone killed and dead, I have been left alone.

Master of the science of steel,
So strong and with a gifted arm,
With power so great even, still
To evil I could do no harm.

I can't fight it
Can't beat it
Defeat it
Can't shield those
I have loved with such pride
Will the world have respite?

I won't rest 'till I make the greatest blade:
A sword with the power to tear the skies!
The greatest that Man has ever made:
One that will bring tears to the gods' eyes.

I will steal the essence of the Sun!
And with the power of a nova
Will imbue it. When it will be done,
Then the darkness will be over.

I will weld it
And mold it
And hone it
And hold it
Hold it ever so tight
A sword of burning light!

But, still, even with such a lofty sword,
How could I fight the evil that has crept
Into our lives? No, I must find its true lord:
The Hero that the sword will truly accept.

I must not succumb to its call, its lure!
This sword's destiny must not be tainted
By any unworthy hand - to make sure
That from evil the world will be mended.

I won't steal it
Will seal it
Conceal it
And only reveal it
When the time will be right
May the stars be my guides...

After the longest of journeys, following gods' will,
It has finally been revealed, finally been shown:
The visage of the metallic daughter of Steel,
The only that is worthy for this sword to own.

Made by the man who ended all I have loved,
With eyes grim, under slavery of the dark,
With snideness, back to me my sword she had shoved:
"Why shouldn't I melt its greatness for its parts?"

Will you refuse it
And diffuse it
And discard it
Disregard it
Your duty to wield all of its might
To undo the wrong that once was right?

Take courage to your heart, fair soldier!
And listen to me as I will say it thus:
Stand firmly before a mirror and just stare her
In the eyes, as those eyes do scream: "Liberate us!"

Take the word of an inventor and a swordsmith:
Leave the world of comfort where things are nice and fine.
In your heart there'll be a fire forever lit,
If you will only believe: "The power is mine!"

You will fight it
And beat it
Defeat it
Complete the
Conquest of your greatest fright
You will travail through the night!
Written from 13th to 22nd of March 1E 2016.

Dedicated to K.F.
SelfOfTheDivine Nov 2015
As all is wrong, as all is known, you're on your own, your teeth are honed.
It's vengeance's hour, gives hate so dour, how it empow'rs, all to devour.
All remedies, obscurities, benignities, are turned to sin.
As you begin, fear setting in: for only one of you can win.

This lovely dance, this deathly dance, once-in-life chance, you fall in trance,
And call for death, draw your last breath, as all is set, start this duet!
Your final trial, you share a smile, a hateful smile, respectful smile.
Passion is riled, made this worthwhile, all that is left: blood, sweat and bile.

You both are free, you met your peer, now you will see, that death is near.
Without a sound, you leap around, and strike the ground, your screams resound.
All be confound'd, no way around, 'tis fate you found, you're destin'-bound.

One of you falls, and damns it all, more pain enrolls: they've met their goal.
Your life they stole, death takes its toll, you lose your soul: this dance is whole.
Oh, what a strife, with death was rife, grandest celebration of life!
Originally writen on 2nd of October, 1E 2011.

ABCC DEFF GHH IIJ, 16 16 16 16
SelfOfTheDivine Sep 2015
It's already past midnight, no more light is there,
On black velvet lays the heavy somber night;
On my forehead linger memories of your hair:
"My distant love, when, near me, will you alight?"

You are gone. As if you have died. Where are you? Where?
Separation possesses death's woeful might,
In  heart tingles and passions, in soul doubts and scares:
"I'll die this eve and after my dear take flight."

"Love is not joy!", do you know when you said such things?
"Love, it is a wound, one that so horribly stings,"
"Love hurts, it hurts, as only life of pain can hurt,"

"Woe, woe are they whose love is madd'ingly stalwart."
You're wrong. Love is pain, a flame burning to the bone,
But it only hurts when I'm lonesome – as a stone.
Another translation of a poem by Antun Gustav Matoš, a Croatian modernist poet. I kept the rhyming system and the number of syllables intact; it changed the original structure of the poem, but hopefully it hasn't damaged its quality.

Translated on 13th of September, 1E 2015.

abab abab ccd dee
12 11 12 11, 12 11 12 11, 12 12 12, 12 12 12
SelfOfTheDivine Aug 2015
Let your voice counsel my hand
To think, to utter and write down.
You, who is the tear in my eye
As, in dread-beauty, I drown.

You, who is the end of the line
From which all my virtues spawn.
You, who is my promised land,
Please guide me now, as I strive on.

Please give me the strength to find you one day,
That I'll be worthy of gazing at your face,
That we may joyously meet and embrace.

Engulf me in your fire! Cleanse me of my sins!
That whatever's left, be poised to win
Against the Tyrant that one day you will slay.
Written on the 6th of August, 1E 2015.

abcb cdad eff gge,
7 8 8 7/8 7 7 8/10 11 10/11 10 11
SelfOfTheDivine Mar 2015
A priceless beast, so prideful and mild
With eyes so clear, full of wisd'm and guile.
Nevertheless, true child of the wild:
Untamed shadow with a taunting smile.

To revel in your pride and beauty,
I hunt you down, make you my trophy,
Put you on display, for all to see
Your beauty, pride and serenity.

But when caged and trapped, you have lost your pride,
Lost your raw beauty, lost your wild side.
So pitiful it sickens me inside...

When shown that to yourself you must be true,
With parting utterance I release you:
"May the eternal hunt begin anew."
Originally written on 31st of January, 1E 2011.

aaaa bbbb ccc ddd, 9 9 10 10
SelfOfTheDivine Jan 2015
Hanging on the gallows. Dry as coarse hay.
Hanging on the prison wall. A wall of shame.
Black villainous pit under it, of ill fame,
Place of ******, dark as the foulest play.

I saw that hem somewhere, one rural day,
For my mother's face had that kind of a frame,
And similar eyes I had seen on a dame:
To what a place had I been led astray!

And in her stead I jumped in that fatal hole
And with her bloodied sweat wet as a dark shoal,
As with tears, my insolent cheek I drowned.

For my sweet Croatia they hanged and disgraced,
Like a common thief, as her name is erased,
For the sake of who knows who, by lawmen in bounds!
Translation of a patriotic poem by Antun Gustav Matoš, a Croatian modernist poet, written on the hundred year anniversary of the birth of Ljudevit Gaj. The poem is said to be inspired by a somber dream. I tried to keep the rhyming system and the number of syllables; hopefully that hasn't damaged the poem's quality.

Translated on 6th of January, 1E 2015.

abba abba ccd eed
10 11 11 10, 10 11 11 10, 11 11 10, 11 11 12
SelfOfTheDivine Jul 2014
Uniform mass of individuals,
With aphorisms and symbols they wield,
Sharply turning the wheel of history,
With different structure, different calamity.

Five-headed Dragon that is on the rise,
Bringing about its rebirth and demise:
Wholesome transformation as its only cause,
Ameliorative without a pause.

Ideals with violence that it must shield,
Enacted throughout its hierarchy,
With loyalty as its greatest prize.

Grinding everything betwixt its jaws,
The thirst of Humanity that it must slake,
To effectuate the Perfect State.
aabb ccdd abc dee, 10 10 10 11/10 10 11 10/11 9 9/9 11 9
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