Going to another medieval re-enactment and seeing some folks I haven’t see in … wow … almost twenty years. Ice is clinging to the trees (and thankfully not the roads). Perfect day to have thoughts brewing in my head.
You never know when a bit of magic might happen.
Great time at the medieval event. Yesterday was masked balls, old friends, some old-fashioned mischief, … and showing up at Burger King late at night in a bodice and skirt. At least the cashier hid the “we’re being attacked by a Ren. Faire” look that a lot of them have. I also have gotten–“Hey, are you Amish?”
One of my other hobbies is writing poetry in other languages. I was able to work some Old English into the novel with my character, The Huntsman. This is a piece in Old French in an Old French poetry form.
Avec Les Aigles
Ils sont libres, sans lor seule dolent,
Deux amants ardent dans mer de ciel.
Dans le terre e le ciel, ils dansent.
Compassion e force ils esposent,
Toujours, ils se sont liés eternal.
Ils sont libres, sans lor seule dolent.
Les couers les voutes ataindent;
Sa merci ses dementent leur chapele.
Dans le terre e le ciel, ils dansent.
Sor bois, desous les ètoiles luisant,
Les oyseau sont alaine ne fidelle.
Ils sont libres, sans lor seule dolent.
Les ailles l’azure cielent doucement,
Montagnes definent son escuiel.
Dans le terre e le ciel, ils dansent;
Ou les aigues soleil ataindent,
Ils chantent par plores des nuages cruels.
Ils sont libres, sans lor seule dolent;
Dans le terre e le ciel, ils dansent.
With the Eagles
They are free, two souls no longer chained to the Earth,
Burning in the sky’s oceans.
Caught between the earth and sky, they soar.
A marriage of compassion and strength,
They are forever bound to one another.
They are free, two souls no longer chained to the Earth.
Their hearts touch the sky’s precious secrets,
Their grace sings the song of heaven’s splendor.
Caught between the earth and sky, they soar.
Above the trees, below the bright stars,
Are the ones that defy the wind.
They are free, two souls no longer chained to the Earth.
As their wings softly paint the sky to their will,
They fly where the mountains embrace the horizon.
Caught between the earth and sky, they soar;
Where the oceans reach for the sun,
Through the harshest rains, they sing.
They are free, two souls no longer chained to the Earth;
Caught between the earth and sky, they soar.
The Writing of N.R. Allen 