Digenis Acritas
Pursued fromward eastern directions I stand,
an aeriform of the dawn comes to annunciate,
dark soldiers close in, borders to infiltrate,
to overkill farmers and our lands to demand.
I stand upon black turf, damp from the rain,
unfaithful disorderly horde closes to border;
the peace of pasture subsides to onset order,
and the waving of steppe horses black mane.
I slaughter the attacking impertinent mortals,
benevolently I send them to warriors' terra;
Crimson spills onto Tagma Flags of Porphyra,
and my face to dissipate on spring's portals.
The flag waves crimson in dawn, and morning
rises innocent from some euphoric nostalgia,
forsooth bless of Mistral liturgy and eulogia,
the orderly kills of barbarians and mourning.
A blissful Helios lifts to his vaulting course,
while the blade cuts the condemned to Hades;
Prodigious bless, the slaughtered mourn fades,
while honey bees buzzing muffles my remorse.
Dark form I am, on border's deathly fallow,
my tagma blade defines the oblation to earth,
ornis stare amazed at her insatiable dearth,
along this holy communion's denatured hallow.
Through this virtuous and triumphant passage,
slow I denature bleeding to an euphoric river,
I am a pasture of Argemones and dew of silver,
and I am the Mistral that carries my ravage.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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