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.
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