The Warrior
The heavy heat of day diminish and it fades,
The slope of dunes are filling fast with shades,
The dusk sets in and stars are spawning in the sky,
As I prepare my soul for the upcoming battle...
...either to live ... or die.
I feel at peace... of death I do not feel afraid,
As all my living debts are fully paid.
Yet, one flaming desire is burning in my heart,
To excite vengeance on our enemies...
... to tear them now apart.
The years of slavery, of pain and of opression,
Both bledeed and fortified our fremen nation.
The time has come for us to take the lead,
To bring death and destruction to our tyrants...
... our souls to feed.
I scan the nearby camp and I recheck my knife,
My trusted blade, the tooth of God and guardian of life.
Its milky glow will soon bring terror to our foe,
As they will know their spark of life out of this world...
... will quickly go.
A chilling owl call shouts deeply in the night:
It is the sign to start the fight.
I move silently from shade to shade,
As now the owl call begins to fade.
I meet a guard patrolling near a tower,
Wielding a laser... he looks so certain of his power.
A fluid blur of thrusts and jabs to neck and hand,
And he falls silent in the sand.
I feel around me the death specter as it spreads,
Its blades severing our foe’ life-line threads.
The death commando moves violent, like a tempest,
Cleansing the land of the harkonnen pest.
And now... besides the wind, there is no sound,
Only dark bodies lie still upon the ground.
No storm, but thunder booms into the night:
„LONG LIVE THE FIGHTERS AND THEIR MIGHT!”
The heavy heat of day diminish and it fades,
The slope of dunes are filling fast with shades,
The dusk sets in and stars are spawning in the sky,
As I prepare my soul for the upcoming battle...
...either to live ... or die.
I feel at peace... of death I do not feel afraid,
As all my living debts are fully paid.
Yet, one flaming desire is burning in my heart,
To excite vengeance on our enemies...
... to tear them now apart.
The years of slavery, of pain and of opression,
Both bledeed and fortified our fremen nation.
The time has come for us to take the lead,
To bring death and destruction to our tyrants...
... our souls to feed.
I scan the nearby camp and I recheck my knife,
My trusted blade, the tooth of God and guardian of life.
Its milky glow will soon bring terror to our foe,
As they will know their spark of life out of this world...
... will quickly go.
A chilling owl call shouts deeply in the night:
It is the sign to start the fight.
I move silently from shade to shade,
As now the owl call begins to fade.
I meet a guard patrolling near a tower,
Wielding a laser... he looks so certain of his power.
A fluid blur of thrusts and jabs to neck and hand,
And he falls silent in the sand.
I feel around me the death specter as it spreads,
Its blades severing our foe’ life-line threads.
The death commando moves violent, like a tempest,
Cleansing the land of the harkonnen pest.
And now... besides the wind, there is no sound,
Only dark bodies lie still upon the ground.
No storm, but thunder booms into the night:
„LONG LIVE THE FIGHTERS AND THEIR MIGHT!”
For those unfamiliar, the source of inspiration is Frank Herbert's Dune saga.
RăspundețiȘtergereOn the desert planet of Arrakis, known as Dune, there is a struggle between the tyrant rulers - the Harkonnens and the native tribes of Fremen. Due to the harsh conditions imposed by the environement, these people became fierce warriors and started to gain the upper hand on their opressors.
In this poem I tried to depict the thoughts of one of them before, during and after a battle.
This poem is the first side of the story as the image will shift to see things from the eyes of the enemy.
RăspundețiȘtergereBe sure to check the next poem - The Guard - for a full view of the events.