Guest Posted November 19, 2001 Report Share Posted November 19, 2001 Archive Note The original post was made by someone who was not registered. As a result the parser messed up when converting. Their name and post information can be found directly below this line. Arlequin Visitor Posts: 10 (11/18/01 12:57:40 pm) Répondre [Poetic Text] - Onirique Création -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Décourageant ! Misérables fléaux ! Un voyageur solitaire, qui n’aurait pas du avoir soif d’atteindre un noble but. Dès lors, il eut soif à chaque heure et devint mercenaire. Le sombre vagabond, fuit son funeste passé, parcourant les contrées sauvages en quête d’une ultime Rédemption… Utopie ! Balivernes ! Ces actes étaient impardonnables ; seule leur signification justifiable. Ses pieds le conduisirent dans une vaste forêt, royaume lyrique de la sérénité. Un lac obscur, parsemé de nombreuses îles, s’étend majestueux devant lui. Il se dit aveuglé par tant de symboles pacifiques : « Si je succombe, dans le temple de la pureté : au moins je serais porté sous l’ombre silencieuse d’un peuplier, et l’herbe tendre sera tondue ; et là on sculptera une aimable image de moi. Impossible ! Pour prendre un doux Repos, il doit demeurer sur de plus humbles pensées et laisser sa triste vie qui a débutée dans la grâce se terminer de même. Ainsi, toute inquiétude s’évanouit de son cœur : il édifia, ici, au simple souffle de sa fantaisie éclairée, un palais de cristal d’une douceur universelle : un hymne au Pardon Impardonnable. Elles naquirent, des Nymphes dans les bois et les sources, sur les fleurs et les feuilles ; et l’ombre, sentinelle muette auprès des vierges endormies, fragiles gouttes de rosée dans une périlleuse destinée… aimante à jamais belle. Inconscient de l’immense océan dans laquelle sa forêt n’est qu’un îlot parmi tant d’autres. Il surprend les Nymphes aux blanches mains dans les sites ombragés de sa fantaisie pour mendier un doux baiser, jouer avec leurs doigts, faire courir sur leurs blanches épaules un délicieux frisson avec une morsure aussi dure que les lèvres peuvent donner… Les visions se sont envolées ! Il est temps de reprendre le chemin des ondulantes vallées. Une épée, présent des sveltes elfes, pend à sa ceinture dorée. Aux arbres gardiens éternels de ces lieux féeriques et aux fleurs, éphémères beautés à jamais immortelles, il promit de revenir veiller sur ses pensées. Les dryades, mystérieuses valses entre les branches entrelacées et entremêlées des petits buissons, dirent à leur manière : ‘au revoir maître’. C’est ainsi, il s’en alla de nouveau vers les sentiers de la Guerre… dans un but paternel, celui de protéger les enfants de ses Havres Cristallines. Arlequin Mars 2000 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lady Celes Crusader Posted December 1, 2001 Report Share Posted December 1, 2001 Discouraging! Poor wretches plagues! A lonely traveller, who should never had thethirst to achieve a noble goal. Since then, he had thirst each single hour and became a mercenary. The dark vagabond fless his disastrous past, traversing the savages realms in his quest for an ultimate Redemption... Utopia! Lies! The acts were unforgivable : only their signification were justifiable. His feet lead him in a vast forest, lyric kingdom of serenity. A dark lake, with several islands scattered on, speads majestly before him. He was blinded by so many pacifist symbols: "If only I succomb in the temple od purity, at least I'll be brought under the silent shadow of a poplar, and the tender herb will be moawned and there they'll sculpt an lovable icon of myself. Impossible! To take a well deserve rest, he must remain on more humble thoughts and leave the sad life he had started with grace to ended that way. Then, all worries dissapeared in his heart : he erected, here, with the simple blow of his enlightned fantasy a crystal palace of an universal gentleness: an hymn to Unforgivable Forgiveness. They were born, nymphes in the wood and in the sourcesm on the flowers and the leaves and the shadow, quiet sentinel to the sleeping virgins, fragile dewdrop in a perillous destiny... lovely and forever beautiful. Incounscious in the huge ocean within which his forest was an island among many others. He suprises the Nymphes with white hands in the shadowed sites of his fantasy for begging a sweet kiss, to play with their fingers, to make run on their white shoulders a delicate shiver with a bite as hard as lips can give... The visions are gone! It is time to take the road of the ondulating valley. A sword, gift from the svelt elves, hangs to its golden belt. To the eternal guardian trees of these fairy-like places and to the flowers, transitory beauties forever immortal, he promised to come back to to take care of his thoughts The dryades, mysterious waltz between the intertwined branches and small bushes, said their way: "Farewell, master". This is how he went to the roads of War again... in a paternal goal, to protect the children of the Crystal Lair. Arlequin March 2000 Tanslator note: This is traduced to the best of my capabilities. This time, I've used Babelfish for some words that I wasn't sure or totally don't know the English transaltion. Of course, revise is always welcome - Celes Crusader Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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