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Poem: Aubade Zwei Máni

Máni’s sweet kisses seal
the slumber’s eyelids
with dreams of buxom Valkyries
serving ale in longhouses filled
with the uproarious songs
of bloody victory, noble death.

Oh! Máni bid morning lark silent
though you are a fair maiden,
battle your sister Sól’s fiery rays
that would disrupt this gentle soul.

Given up to your careful caresses
that rocks sleeper, like a mother
rocks her babe to save the child,
from the perils of a sunlit world
where Ragnarok waits for me. 

My soul is not ready for Valhalla,
even as I hear the chief’s horn
summoning like the cock crow:
“Up berserkers onward to glory!”

Oh! Máni I do not want to leave
the glory of your dark repose;
let me sleep in imitation of death 
to avoid sharp reality that awaits
your worshiper with eyes shut tight. 

Todays experimental poem is an Aubade, a poem that is “a love poem or song welcoming or lamenting the arrival of the dawn.” Read more about this poetry from here.

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


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