In olden times
Men adorned thee and rode to war
And how I wept as I watched thee go
Singing through my tears for my Beloved
And after thou wert gone,
There was no-one to cover my grief
For they love to war.
They took to the hunt, singing;
My Beloved, for Joy!
Racing the wind on their mares
Thundering over the land
With streaming hounds and spanning falcons
Quarry fleeing exhausted before them.
I glory in all my Beloved
I rejoiced when you returned, laden with spoil
Gazelles too beautiful and still
Rabbits so soft
Mares, won by stealth and surprise
My brothers, wounded, or dying....
Yet, see, I entered the tent with unclouded eye
With large and beautiful eyes for my Beloved
With girded heart for my wounded and dying
These dying knew then the yearning of my heart
They began to see my great hope groaning within me
They knew at last why I weep through my singing
When they adorn thee and ride thee to war
You were a gift from the living God
And not just to my Brother
What comfort I have found, to bury my face in your mane
For you would hear all my heart and never say no.
Thou hast borne me, too, over the sands, and for joy
For the sheer joy of life exulting
A gift to guarantee my hand,
Earnest for me
Now I wait with girded heart and unclouded eye
Waiting for the time my Betrothed will come for me
Oh, great-hearted mare, how hot my spirit rose
When I heard the promise!
We ride!
Thousands upon thousands, we ride
We fly on the wind,
On glistening steeds to redress the land
To herald this final kingdom with a roar
To see the finish of the one
Who loves to war
We watch the river bring life back to the sands
That was the promise.
For this age will pass. It will pass, God be praised
And we will yet adorn thee for peace
For just peace, fine, and clean
We will cover the land
With peace like rain
Pasture for the herds and thunder over the land!
We shall bear this scattered people home
From the farthest reaches, with great hearts
And reconciliations;
On the white horses of the wind
No comments:
Post a Comment