She roams through El Dorado’s ancient golden ways,
She gazes from black spires of Xanadu,
She walks through green Lothlorien’s unclouded days,
She muses long on Ilium’s deep blue...

I’ve seen her in the chamber of the silver’d doors,
I’ve heard her when the loon in moonlight screams,
I’ve felt her walking silent over marbled floors...
I’ve been with her in echo-haunted dreams...

Minutes float by like water
you pass your quiet days,
difficult thoughts becoming hotter
don't drown, dear, into fault
it's just a phase,
just put your
bad and good on place.

Your thoughts fly like the wind
but it doesn't fan your fire,
your years just ticking away.
When will you require
that sincere naive fairy tale
to fade into grey?

You take your path as a road
which weaves like a wreath
and, after all it is slowed
to boring, joyless dance,
you feel wholly disturbed
like in sad episode.

Obediently, like a clock your heart goes
that is life-weary
and faith inside it froze,
it is weak being teary.

And your faith in a dream is in mind
it used to be joyful in flight,
but you're confused in a fight
with your fears which like beasts
lay in wait to eat you or bite.

But you, my love, have your time
to catch up with your dreams
just move on, try to climb
to the sky,
overcome all the frights.

Dreams will always be yours!
Spread your wings to take off
take whatever you want and know
that dreams will destroy all the flaws.

--
(Ukrainian)

Спливають, як вода, хвилини.
ти проживаєш тихо дні:
складні думки, тяжкі години..
в тих днях ти тонеш у вині,
ти розкладаєш по площинах
думки веселі і сумні.
летять як вітер ті думки,
та не роздує він багаття,
лиш тихо жевріють роки,
а в тих роках пусті заняття,
наївні, щирі, мов казки.
та йдуть в нікуди ті стежки.

Стежки сприймаєш за дорогу,
яка плететься, мов вінок,
та, зрештою, вона убога -
нудний, безрадісний танок,
і він ще й сповнений тривоги,
що встряла в серці, мов клинок.
покірно, як годинник, йде
те зморене життям серденько,
бо в ньому віра - більш ніде -
подавлена і вже слабенька.

То віра в мрію, що в думках
колись так радісно буяла,
та ти заплуталась в страхах,
які, мов звірі, чатували,
щоб ти здалась, щоб ти упала.

Та ти, любима, маєш час,
щоб свою мрію наздогнати,
бо кожне серце має шанс
та сили, щоб жахи здолати.
біжи до неї, доганяй,
вона твоя і буде завжди!
Розправ вже крила і злітай,
бери що хочеш, просто знай,
що мрії нищать негаразди.

Nature's Retreat

My heart sings songs parallel to the dance of rain
Where lyrics speak true to nature's mighty chorus
Of colorful leaves burned from early frost
Where green becomes gold and gold turns to red
And the animals, both big and small, hurry to get to bed

My heart speaks to these changes all around me
Embracing Fortuna as if she were my mother
Wishing that I, like the leaves, could also fall and be free
Released from loose bonds that sway with but a breeze
From mighty ******, third of his name, God of the wind
Who that deceitful Juno deceived, to blow steadfast
Aeneas away from hearts true love, to a bigger purpose
His own Goddess to please

Yet... It was not to be for me
Too strong were the currents from that vengeful Neptune
Who then commanded blue Oceanus to summon the monstrous gray Charybdis
Pulling down on the brown oars of my life, seeking to consume
That which I thought mine, as if spoken by an Oracle,
A future as free and varied as a rain soaked forest in fall
Before all falls to rest within the spiteful white teeth of winter
Leaving me to dance in the decay of nature's retreat

I then cry with Terra Mater, reminding her of the days
Where our hearts sang and we spoke in hushed whispers
Excited for the seasons change and the chance to rest
Yet... I am not prepared to say goodbye to her
Her beauty, to me, shines brighter than burning Sol
Me, a moth to her flame, is lost when she is away
Tormented by the memories of life living only to die
An endless cycle of pain that numbs the days spent waiting
For spring to rise once again and refresh my heart
From the desolation of the icy purgatory
And empty forests, skeletal in appearance,
A drab contrast to the songs of revival and lush trees
That are a favorite of the myriad dryads and nymphs
Whom orchestrate the natural melody of the Earth
While patiently awaiting my summer heat

I miss them like I will her, for soon I shall fall like the rain
Patiently awaiting my rebirth so that I might dance with her again

From Publius
To Terra

Salve amore mea

I bid you greetings from the new land
Though I am saddened by your absence
It is a necessary grief

Think not on the sweaty tasks unsuitable
For a beauty such as you
A house you deserve
A house I shall build

A grand atrium will await your arrival
Flowers and Garland will be strewn
To parade your coming

The triumphant wife
Whose radiant reflection shines as a goddess
Mine impluvium turned caldarium

Enter further and I'll have built for you
A grand hallway
Paved with mosaic representations of great Jove
And pastoral murals of our farm and ****** Ceres

Finally, I'll show you to your bed chamber
Finely furnished for the royalty of my love
Crowned in soaring arches crossed in such a way
That creates perfect cubes painted with dancing Cupid
Whose bow I've aimed to forever seal your heart

To mine own

When I draw the arrow
Feathers knocked to sunburned cheeks
And let loose my desire to hold you close
And erase the distance of space between
Our farm
And your home

All I've left to do is build and till and sow
May Sol, Luna, and yourself
Watch over me from afar
With love and well wishes

I will write you soon with more tales from the field
Until then, the work continues...

Vale amore mea,

PERTINAX

From Publius
To Marcus

Marcus, I must apologize:
It is true that I said you were as Antinous
To Gaius' Hadrianus,
But do not fret, it was not in jest;
I truly did ask the Gods to curse you so.

You see, this farm,
This land,
Has been my ward long before you...
In your Janus mask,
Were hired.
At least that God understands the difference
Between war and peace.

Unlike you, dear Marcus,
Who brings only chaos to the fields;
A greater pestilence than any drought or rot.
You are the weevil that spoils the grain,
Corrupting all around you.

Poor Gaius has already fallen
Under your impious spell.
His fields grow fallow from association
With you Marcus!

What shame you bring your family
With your lazy immorality,
Incapable of discerning right from wrong,
Lest it be ascribed by your new dominus, Gaius,
Whose skin your claws flay with fatal flattery.

All this while I tend both your fields,
And mine own,
Working myself to the bone;
The heat, and sweat, and bugs,
Reminiscent of Pluto's underworld.
To honor my family.
To feed my family.

I honor my ancestors Marcus!
Daily, I make offerings to Gods of house and state
At my household alter;

The Capitoline triad overflow with my piety,
Bringing abundance to mine soul and soil alike.
Plenty, that you, sweet Antinous, claim as your own.

No longer.
I'm divorcing myself from all of you.
You can have the land.
As it stands it would make a beautiful wedding plot.
I've even gone to the trouble of forging you a ring,
Meticulously sourced from your masters ****!

Consider it a fragrant farewell
From your favorite fan,
Who will fondly not remember you,
Even as you scramble without me,
And miss the coattails you rode,
To usurp my home.

Woe to the plow;
Proscribed to die in rust.

Signed,
PERTINAX

From Publius

To Gaius



Gaius, how long have we worked together now?



Three, four years?



Are we not as friends, whose sweat salts the soil?

Whose blood still stains mine alter?

...

And mine yours?

...

Have you forgotten your oath?

As brothers have we not sacrificed for the work?



In shared turmoil we toiled with miniscule minutias,

Always working together to make solutions

From pesty problems.

...

Yet, since you hired Marcus you have been different;

...

The work once shared has now become mine own.

No longer do you seek success in teamwork,



Nay,



Languid you have become with the work;

Heavy have mine shoulders become as a result.



Marcus is a joke.

Sure, he makes a fine comrade

Suitable for long binges of wine and women,

But his intellectual capacity is found wanting.

...

A detriment to getting the job done.

...

Still, you insist upon toting him around,

Holding his hand like a little lost puppy

Whose eyes water with weeping greed,

For more and more favoritism and need.

While, I, sit here and continue the work;

I am here finishing what we started, Gaius:



My SWEAT

...

My BLOOD



Has never ceased to pour forth to the land,

While you reap the harvest, leaving bare kernels

For your so called 'friend' to pick at.

...

Scraps as a reward for rearing another bountiful crop.

...

While Marcus lounges in your atrium,

******* plump figs,

...

That I have grown,

...

Spending more time in the lavatorium,

Than tilling the soil or plucking and picking.



No, dear Gaius, you can have the work.

Enjoy it with your dear Marcus.

He'd make a great Antinous to your Hadrianus.

...

Together, may the gods see you buggered in failure.

...

For this, I will make an offering of frankincense and myrrh

As I set off for new fields and greener pastures

To ply my trade.



One that you will find wanted in the days and months

To come.

...

I've new fields to plow


Seeds to sow


Crops to reap


And seedlings to grow

...

Like them, dear Gaius, I will thrive under noonday sun,

While you will wilt with your work.



Without me.



Signed,

PERTINAX

Mid Guðrum sê lêodgebyrga eft
On wanre niht, monajjfyllene!
Wulfe mîn geniwung! ond heorudreór,
Forescýwum wældreor-randwíga Ic,
Nêarra heoruwearg forþgêng
Monajjfyllene swâ! on hê byrnes scan
Æfre! êacen ond eotonweard æghwær,
Weelseaxe! ond êacnum ecgum Ic wæs,
Swâ bælegsan sê Ôfer-mann nu hâten,
Heolstorscuwae nu Ic, Lígetsliehtes Þegn,
Mid mîn styrme, æcse ond heorwe swâ!
Sê Brynewielm-Sundorgenga nu Ic!
Selden ond tówunderlic swâ
Norðanwinde eac Ísenhelm hâten,
Æfre scielde sê Ôfer-mann swâ Ic!
Wulfes êagum! ond hwítum fængtóþum,
Binnan swâ sweart wudubearo,
Mîn ðæt wildor, hwæt! on gehwæðre hond,
Eft sweordwígend ond sweordwund
Réadede Ic swâ! wundor sceawian Ic!
Hwonne swâ mîn gúðgewæde,
Beorht bleóreádan bladesungum
Hwæt! æfre sê feorhléan wæs swâ,
Ond uferra sîn heolfrig andweorc
Swâ âstemped eft mîn cwealmdréor!
Ærdæd unsigefæst þær biþ
Mînes gewilles beadwum swâ,
Hwonne sprindlíce, giet monajjfyllene!
Beadwe-grîman Sceade Heorudreór gladaþ,
Hwonne swâ snyttrum ond singale!
Êcan arodscipes hringedstefna
Þunringe mîn ealdor-dôm âheardaþ,
Hwonne stearcheort on ecnesse swâ!
Onforeweard Þunores Heall heoru-drêore
Mîn scinn wiðerwinna flângeweorc
Ealfela! giet on wanre niht eftwyrde,
Stíele ond forescýwan! sê Ôfer-mann Ic,
Swâ wæpenþracu! Swâ sigorwuldor!
Æledfýre bisene Ic, sê Swígtíma-Wrecend!
Swâ Mônan Wulfe! dæges ond nihtes nu!
Hríðe mîn írenhelme gegangan:

HERMÓÐR REGIS GOTHORVM VLTOR
FVLMINE IGNIQVE IN BELLO TERRÆ
ÚLFHEÐINN VINDEX SVPREMVS
IN SPIRALIS VINDICTÆ SACRA FLAMMA
ET MAGNO CORVSCANTE SPECVLO
IVGITER ALTO INCENDIO MIHI REDITVS
CALIGINIS HRAFNSMERKI VEXILLAQVE
AB VLTIMA THVLE SACRA FLAMMA
IGNEO SANGVINEQVE HÖÐR EXPVGNATOR
SICVT LVPVS VLTIMÆ THVLE TONITRVQVE
DECIMO ANNO FELICIS VINDICTÆ
VINDEX SVPREMVS INVICTVSQVE DENVO
CÆRVLEO FVLMINE IN BELLO TERRÆ
SACRA FLAMMA OVERMAN SCYLD.

Love, unruliest hope, when fierce Diana went wild
With savage discourse, the arrow-stroke of her tongue—
While rage-hounds bay in wooded Gargaphie—aimed at Actaeon.
Or old Baucis her god-giving bone fat of mind,
Stewed the broth of covenant for Zeus to repay in kind.
Then Parthenope, siren-stung in her whirlpool of sea vines,
Her maiden-voice is a breath of sand for Naples to muse upon.
The body of Helen still lies in ages-old smoke over our cities,
We live in the timberframe of her bones of burned ships.
Why can’t her death be an end to all skies?

All things ancient are once born young.
All things secret are shared by tongue.
All things hatred are worn with love.
All things whispered are sung by doves.
All things stone always come undone.