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A community for the dragon language of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Thuum.org

A community for the dragon language of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Poetry

 1 

Emperor of Man
December 7, 2015

Dulce Et Decorum Est - Poem by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind; 
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.- 
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,- 
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 

"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is a line from the Roman lyrical poet Horace's Odes (III.2.13). The line can be roughly translated into English as: 'It is sweet and glorious to die for one's country.' "

by Emperor of Man
December 7, 2015

Dulce Et Decorum Est - Poem by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind; 
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.- 
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,- 
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 

"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is a line from the Roman lyrical poet Horace's Odes (III.2.13). The line can be roughly translated into English as: 'It is sweet and glorious to die for one's country.' "


Emperor of Man
December 7, 2015

Humans, They Are Cruel - Poem by StrunLokSingh

Hell is fruitful, while kindness' power on earth lessens
Humans have become devils, and animals their toys to torture and slay, be it for mere sport or the taste on one's tongue,
They think themselves greater, the foolish humans do, teach the others "lessons"
They kill those of their own kind, falling deeper into the dung.

The bastards must die, but who will remain,
If we cleanse this world of their filth?
Perhaps we must live through this horrid, horrid pain
Some deserve worse a fate then their blood being spilth

Pain they should know,
Pain worse than ours
Their eyes shall be pecked out by the crow,
The crow that is doom and justice to those who should suffer more than mere hours

Yet there is still hope,
Few that remain, few that are pure
We must aid those children with a wise, powerful rope
To pull them from the filth, and create the final cure . . .

by Emperor of Man
December 7, 2015

Humans, They Are Cruel - Poem by StrunLokSingh

Hell is fruitful, while kindness' power on earth lessens
Humans have become devils, and animals their toys to torture and slay, be it for mere sport or the taste on one's tongue,
They think themselves greater, the foolish humans do, teach the others "lessons"
They kill those of their own kind, falling deeper into the dung.

The bastards must die, but who will remain,
If we cleanse this world of their filth?
Perhaps we must live through this horrid, horrid pain
Some deserve worse a fate then their blood being spilth

Pain they should know,
Pain worse than ours
Their eyes shall be pecked out by the crow,
The crow that is doom and justice to those who should suffer more than mere hours

Yet there is still hope,
Few that remain, few that are pure
We must aid those children with a wise, powerful rope
To pull them from the filth, and create the final cure . . .


Viingkolom
December 11, 2015

It's 3:30 in the morning right now, and I'm too lazy to write a new poem, so I'm just going to post this poem I wrote for a story which is a rewrite of an excerpt of a poem. Mindoraan? Pruzah!

The excerpt:

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

 —William Butler Yeats

 

My rewrite:

I will find him—hider, teaser

Soon this ‘me’ will be an ‘us’.

Hand in hand and lips to lips,

Lie among long, dappled grass.

Golden apples like his eyes,

Pluck for times you soon shall prize.

Silver apples like his smile,

He sits and talks with me a while.

--Viingkolom

by Viingkolom
December 11, 2015

It's 3:30 in the morning right now, and I'm too lazy to write a new poem, so I'm just going to post this poem I wrote for a story which is a rewrite of an excerpt of a poem. Mindoraan? Pruzah!

The excerpt:

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

 —William Butler Yeats

 

My rewrite:

I will find him—hider, teaser

Soon this ‘me’ will be an ‘us’.

Hand in hand and lips to lips,

Lie among long, dappled grass.

Golden apples like his eyes,

Pluck for times you soon shall prize.

Silver apples like his smile,

He sits and talks with me a while.

--Viingkolom


Kirrith Kerman
February 16, 2016

I used to write a lot of poem myself, I don't have any here but I'll see if i can write one up. *Cracks knuckles

 

The Sky

 

I sit

In silence

Look outside

The world is black

Illuminated softly

By yellow lamps

Yet look up

At the sky

The realm of dragons

Would they exist

The sky

Not the sky I know

The sky i know is filled

with color

And stars

And the dov

Yet this sky

My sky

Is unknown

I look out

Into the sky

Illuminated 

By the lamps below

And turn off my screen

 

This was all purely improvised, but I think it turned out almost decent! Sweet!

by Kirrith Kerman
February 16, 2016

I used to write a lot of poem myself, I don't have any here but I'll see if i can write one up. *Cracks knuckles

 

The Sky

 

I sit

In silence

Look outside

The world is black

Illuminated softly

By yellow lamps

Yet look up

At the sky

The realm of dragons

Would they exist

The sky

Not the sky I know

The sky i know is filled

with color

And stars

And the dov

Yet this sky

My sky

Is unknown

I look out

Into the sky

Illuminated 

By the lamps below

And turn off my screen

 

This was all purely improvised, but I think it turned out almost decent! Sweet!


Duryoljot
February 17, 2016

Do raps from other threads count? if so... 

Me and my home boy Erandur, ridin' high to the club...

My cheesy rhymes taste so good, put 'em in a sub...

We walk through purple walls and kick some sleepin' Orc balls

My hoe's bros be unable to handle us

My stupid companion unable to follow us

But at least I can still spawn Dremora

So we can play Demon Hunter Dora

Rot... (Word)

Taken from Strongest Thing in Skyrim, a rap about the quest Waking Nightmare.

by Duryoljot
February 17, 2016

Do raps from other threads count? if so... 

Me and my home boy Erandur, ridin' high to the club...

My cheesy rhymes taste so good, put 'em in a sub...

We walk through purple walls and kick some sleepin' Orc balls

My hoe's bros be unable to handle us

My stupid companion unable to follow us

But at least I can still spawn Dremora

So we can play Demon Hunter Dora

Rot... (Word)

Taken from Strongest Thing in Skyrim, a rap about the quest Waking Nightmare.


Emperor of Man
February 17, 2016

This is a translated Belarusian poem, I tried the original as well, but the characters didn't load correctly. The version that is a combat piece from the OST in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is called "Song of the Sword Dancer." I have no knowledge of what it was originally called, but here it is . . .

Guards were running from the clear field 
Good evening 
And stroke a spear near the gates 
Good evening 
I dont sleep, I dont lie, we are riding to war 
Good evening 
Your girl was taken by Khazars 
Good evening 
With my sword will I slay these Khazars 
Good evening 
I will marry your girl 
Good evening 
Young Sergey, do you sleep? Do you lie? 
I do not sleep, I do not lie, I tell myself 
Good evening

by Emperor of Man
February 17, 2016

This is a translated Belarusian poem, I tried the original as well, but the characters didn't load correctly. The version that is a combat piece from the OST in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is called "Song of the Sword Dancer." I have no knowledge of what it was originally called, but here it is . . .

Guards were running from the clear field 
Good evening 
And stroke a spear near the gates 
Good evening 
I dont sleep, I dont lie, we are riding to war 
Good evening 
Your girl was taken by Khazars 
Good evening 
With my sword will I slay these Khazars 
Good evening 
I will marry your girl 
Good evening 
Young Sergey, do you sleep? Do you lie? 
I do not sleep, I do not lie, I tell myself 
Good evening


Veyd Sahvoz
February 17, 2016

The greatest cry for help

It may be as simple as an I'm fine.

It's looking at someone as your soul is falling to the floor

not wanting to involve them in your pain,

in the darkness that lurks inside,

 but you're just hoping they can see it;

that maybe they can help. The problem

you conceal it a little too mucha little too well 

and guess what

they never notice; not until it's too late. Unless you're one of the lucky ones.

by Veyd Sahvoz
February 17, 2016

The greatest cry for help

It may be as simple as an I'm fine.

It's looking at someone as your soul is falling to the floor

not wanting to involve them in your pain,

in the darkness that lurks inside,

 but you're just hoping they can see it;

that maybe they can help. The problem

you conceal it a little too mucha little too well 

and guess what

they never notice; not until it's too late. Unless you're one of the lucky ones.


Emperor of Man
February 18, 2016

One of the lucky ones, or the brave ones.

by Emperor of Man
February 18, 2016

One of the lucky ones, or the brave ones.


Emperor of Man
February 25, 2016

Child of the stars where do you go,
Where do you find that hearts will glow.
For upon the blackest pits, to the color of life,
That nature swells in a galaxy of strife.
Yet pain and suffer are tools and more,
Beauty and wonders is a simple galore.
Child of the stars, the mother to all,
Would you depth beyond the blinded thrall??

~ Unknown

by Emperor of Man
February 25, 2016

Child of the stars where do you go,
Where do you find that hearts will glow.
For upon the blackest pits, to the color of life,
That nature swells in a galaxy of strife.
Yet pain and suffer are tools and more,
Beauty and wonders is a simple galore.
Child of the stars, the mother to all,
Would you depth beyond the blinded thrall??

~ Unknown

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