A Tale about Somarre & Khynne (epos)

[TheBasementTapes]

Hallo forum, hierbij het epos van Somarre en Khynne (eigenlijk geen epos vanwege het gebrek aan helden, werken en kwaad), geheel van de hand van The Basement Tapes. Veel leesplezier!


A tale about Somarre and Khynne,
Once gathered in love and peace,
Then both went another way:
Somarre to West, and Khynne to East.

The conditioins of this tale
Are not to now be said aloud;
Somewhere where place did not matter,
Somewhen when time was not cared about.

After numerous lonely years
Somarre went out to see his wife;
Though she would have had a billion others,
He had to know if she was alive.

He meant to announce his coming,
But did not know where to begin,
Words he sought to name her beauty,
But there was only one: Khynne.


Her looks were not astonishing,
Though rather quiet and sweet,
And for her touch, or so he said,
His lonesome heart would bleed.

Her skin was just as painted white
A Persian rose would be,
Her face was of a certain beauty
Not many men could see.

Her fingers had a certain way;
Stroking as they clutched,
That made every simple move
A master work of touch.

Her hair was soft, shiny and dark,
However it was worn,
And whenever she opened her mouth,
A masterpiece was born.


Her eyes, they had a certain shape,
And a certain kind of blue,
That made you think if you looked hard
Enough you could see through.

Not the troubled blue of seas.
Or the cloudy blue of skies,
A plain and clear mixture of shades
In which only kindness lies.

The blue you see when you close your eyes
After a long day in the sun,
Or when you turn out satisfied,
And it's only just begun.

Everlasting was her sweetness,
With those eyes that always shined
With the passion of a million moons
And sixty suns combined.


The thought of her ensured him then,
And though his path was long,
He began his travel
And the moon, it moved along.

In the night he sang of her,
Burning from desire,
Sitting lonely with his lute
Next to the burning fire.

In the day his feet got rough
And his body got sore,
But the pain would cease when he'd think of
What he was walking for.

He had crossed the mountains then,
And fields he had run through,
And when he reached the border,
There was one thing left to do.


The Csahn, it was the greatest river
Men would ever see
One of the roughest waters that
On this earth would ever be.

The water, it was clear and bright,
As Somarre looked down,
Considering to turn around
As he stood there with a frown.

The water could have filled his lungs,
Or could have thrown him hard
Against the silent rocks
As he was slowly torn apart.

The cold, it could have grabbed him
As soon as he dived in,
He sought a motivation,
But there was just one needed: Khynne.


He knew he would find her there,
So he made up his mind,
He dived in to continue,
And leave his land behind.

The cold water burnt his skin
And the salt burnt in his eyes,
He screamed for sorrow, love and pain,
Though no-one heard his cries.

The water overwhelmed him
And got into his nose,
He could not reach the bottom
With his cold and aching toes.

The end of the river wouldn't come,
But his life's was drawing near,
And something else now filled his throat
With the bitter taste of fear.


Lying by the river's banks
Was a lonely man,
In search of satisfaction
He was broken once again.

Dead was his body,
And dying was his heart,
He could not stay with us,
Even though he tried so hard.

He could not feel his legs and feet
And couldn't move his hands,
And dying by the river
He said farewell to his friends:

The sun that now shone down at him,
The clear bright summer skies,
His goals and motivations
And the thinking of her eyes.


The terrible and hollow pain
He felt from deep within,
The warm and wet sand of the land
And its feeling on his skin.

Directionless and hopeless,
Motionless and lost,
A small and faceless creature
Buried in the dust.

He fell asleep down there
And as the sky grew dark above,
Just before he died,
He had a vision of his love:

He saw the woman thinking,
And though her path was long,
She began her travel,
And the moon, it moved along.

[Ali ben Ha]

Hier heb ik geen woorden voor; alleen muziek zou het nòg beter laten klinken.