Charging towards the front line
Weight of rider on my back
Pass those bloodied corpses
The scent of breath they lack
Strange thin wire tearing my flesh
My breast, my belly, my legs, my blood
spilling out so salty- stumble, run again
hooves kicking up the hardened mud
Falling, falling, down, deep down
Falling to the death, the dark underground
Falling, flightless, without a sound
Falling so hard, deep down, deep down
And then silence elapses across the field
Victors stagger to prepare for the next stage
while the losers lay in pools of cooling red
and horses mill till we're led back
Like sheep we follow, mindless
Like sheep, minds blank, trotting
Like nothings wrong, like dumb sheep
While our comrades lay, bodies rotting
And-
Then-
Charging forwards, through milling shouts
ignoring the noise, the killing obsidian stones
pounding, air sharp against my speed
beneath my iron shoes is flesh and bones
Flesh and bones
Then we are there, thrusting, strutting, proud
Weaving death like Fate's loom
One snip with the sword of life- of death
Because the abyss is coming soon
Our riders, us, killing as is right and just
Dying in our numbers, wallowing in grief and pity
Until the night comes, to swallow the thoughts
And the moonlit star blinks- free
It will finish when enough have died
When they subside, when they subside
So we hope for the day when we can ride
unrestrained, on the prospering field's side
Soon enough,
when enough have died
and they subside. Subside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem