The chants of aggression are sang
On this accursed plane
That seeks to drink of the crimson juice
That in veins run
From the skies above
the sun rises like a mighty king
called forth by the clang of blade against blade;
Heralded by the cries of heroes lost
from the futility of the earlier night.
O my sweet rose!
The skies remind me of thine beauty
O mother Greece!
These plains though red from much drinking
remind me of thee
of the plains,of the grass
As beautiful as you always are
Even on the day I took up my cause
How greatly I miss the sands
That caressed my back on your golden beaches.
So then should I give up this cause?
Not until honour thine honour is avenged
Till then my three hundred shall stand:
Till then we shall fight
I can hear the clamoring of shields
and the sound of death.
It seems I have to wait some more
To see the beaches of great Sparta.
YOU ARE READING
The Unknown
Poetrysearch in the darkness as Orpheus did once to learn his secrets as he is : to know the secrets of the unknown A collection of poems for those willing to look beyond what is seen.
