From time to time a poem

Eragon poem short in english and latin

Brilliant ! Cheers !!!

Made this one for whatever reason a couple days ago.

Listen my child,
for now you shall hear
Of the only seven slayers a human must fear.

First beware Pride, lest belief in one’s might,
Has you discount the foeman who is braving you sight.

Never Envy another mans wealth, power, or home
For dark plots and plans will bring death to your own.

Your Wrath shouldn’t win, when fist strike your mail,
For anger kills cunning, which you will need to prevail.

A person must rest, but Sloth you you should dread
Else long years of napping let assassins to your bed.

‘Greed is good,’ or so foolish men will say,
Until piles of money bring killing theives where they lay.

Hungry is your body, and at times you must feed

But Gluttony makes fat ones, who can’t move at their need.

A hot Lust for glory, gems, gold, or mates
Leads a reckless young man to the blackest of fates.

So take heed to this wisdom, precious child of mine,
And the long years of life are sure to be thine.

In spanish!

Escucha, hija mía,
  por ahora vais a oír
De los siete asesinos sólo un ser humano debe temer.

En primer lugar ten cuidado con el orgullo, no sea que la creencia en la propia fuerza,
¿Ha usted descontar el enemigo navío, que está desafiando a la vista.

No envidies la riqueza sirve otra, el poder, o en el hogar
Para las parcelas oscuras y planes traerá la muerte a su cuenta.

Su ira no debe ganar, cuando el puño golpear a tu correo,
Porque el enojo mata a la astucia, la cual tendrá que prevalecer.

Una persona debe descansar, pero Pereza que usted debe temer
Else años largos de la siesta que los asesinos de su cama.

"La codicia es buena", o los hombres tan necios dirán:
Hasta montones de tesoros traer ladrones que matan en el que yacía.

Hambre es su cuerpo, y, a veces usted alimenta seguramente

Pero la gula hace gordos, que no se pueden mover a su necesidad.

Un caluroso deseo de gloria, piedras preciosas, oro, o compañeros de
Conduce a un joven temerario más negro de los destinos.

Así que ten cuidado con esta sabiduría, precioso hijo mío,
Y los largos años de vida están seguros de ser tuyo.

en anglais et en espagnol ... c'est énorme !

continue, Solari !! et merci !!!

reading your poetry makes me want to start writing poetry again.

it was a pleasure (:

form...

The first book of
The Faeire Queene

A selection from...
CANTO I

The Patron of true Holinesse
foule Errour doth defeate;
Hypocrisie him to entrappe
doth to his home entreate.

I

A GENTLE Knight° was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruel markes of many'a bloudy fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

II

And on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as living ever him ador'd:
Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
For soveraine hope,° which in his helpe he had:
Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

III

Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana° to him gave,
That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond,
To winne him worship, and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly things he most did crave;
And ever as he rode, his hart did earne
To prove his puissance in battell brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Upon his foe, a Dragon° horrible and stearne.

IV

A lovely Ladie° rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow,
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And over all a blacke stole she did throw,
As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
And heavie sat upon her palfrey slow;
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.

V

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe,
She was in life and every vertuous lore,
And by descent from Royall lynage came
Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore,
And all the world in their subjection held;
Till that infernall feend with foule uprore
Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:
Whom to avenge, she had this Knight from far compeld.

VI

Behind her farre away a Dwarfe° did lag,
That lasie seemd in being ever last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,
The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,
And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine
Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,
That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain,
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.

VII

Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove° not far away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:
Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starre:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farre:
Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.

VIII

And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,
Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling Pine,° the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar never dry,°
The builder Oake,° sole king of forrests all,
The Aspine good for staves, the Cypresse funerall.°

IX

The Laurell,° meed of mightie Conquerours
And Poets sage, the firre that weepeth still,°
The Willow° worne of forlorne Paramours,
The Eugh° obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
The Mirrhe° sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech,° the Ash for nothing ill,°
The fruitfull Olive, and the Platane round,
The carver Holme,° the Maple seeldom inward sound.

X

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Untill the blustring storme is overblowne;
When weening to returne, whence they did stray,
They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in wayes unknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.

XI

At last resolving forward still to fare,
Till that some end they finde or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;
Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollow cave
Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,
And to the Dwarfe awhile his needlesse spere he gave.

XII

Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,
Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke:
The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
And perill without show: therefore your stroke,
Sir Knight, with-hold, till further triall made.
Ah Ladie, (said he) shame were to revoke°
The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue gives her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.

XIII

Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place
I better wot then you, though now too late
To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the wandring wood,° this Errours den,
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then
The fearefull Dwarfe) this is no place for living men.

A slightly more morbid poem, for a more morbid time...
Fading
I know, that if I keep up this chirade
That I, am surely going to fade
I will, become what I detest
The thought, that keeps me from rest

I need a change
I'm out of range
I've been unlinked
I need to think

I'm smart but paranoid
I cannot fill the void
I feel like hating
The feel of fading

I ain't who you think I am
But I, will not condemn you
You to, the feel of fading
The fear of hating

I need a hero
I feel like zero
I need to be saved
Before the time that I fade

I'm smart but paranoid
Have yet to fill the void
I know I'm hating
The feel of fading
I fight the feeling
I feel some healing
I am no hero
But I'm not zero

I can't believe what I see
I need to act more like me
I won't encourage the voice inside
Or my life'll be a harder ride

I'm not so paranoid
I can't seem to fill the void
I have stopped hating
For I'm not fading

Soupir tout maussade

Par le regard, on crie ;
Par l'ouïe, on rit ;
Par le chante, on ose songer ...

Aveugles, les mains
Tâtonnent les demains
Sur la peau d'un beau chevalier …

-- Alexandre Orion

I remember speaking to Alexandre about this thread and him stating he wants everyone to participate in it. I love poetry, I write it, I read it.. and when I read this I knew it belonged here.

DISCLAIMER: PROFANITY (18+ Only)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltnspuQeqDE