Gannts Gedichte

Ich habe die beiden anderen Gedichte von Gannt nun auch fertig. Um es ein wenig interessanter zu gestalten, poste ich diesmal aber nicht die deutsche Version der Gedichte, sondern die Rückübersetzung der deutschen Gedichte ins Englische im Vergleich zum Original. Viel Spaß!

The House of the Unicorn
By Gannt

Come! Enter into the rich house of the Unicorn.
Open your ears and minds,
Absorb the magic of the steed’s fair horn!
We are not now,
nor never have we been
Children of the Unicorn.
But if we give in to ourselves,
and listen to music of the elves
one day soon we will be with the Unicorn.

On the day of thy birth
came forth a new ray of sun to our earth
Providing warmth and green riches
to drive away the sorcery of witches.
And we all take part in the gifts of the harvest moon,
and give ourselves to the lute and the tune
and drink the wealth of the early morning dew
and savor the pleasure held by the precious chosen few.

Oh, to belong to the chosen of the Unicorn,
The wealth of spirit, no fear of the forlorn.
We can dance in the meadows by the whispering wonders,
and ride forth on lightning and command the thunder.
Oh, great steed, thou magical beast,
in thine honor we break bread and feast.
We raise our cups high in twilight’s last never
We are in the House of the Unicorn where we will dwell forever.

The House of the Unicorn
By Gannt

Come on! Step into the unicorn’s house.
Open your ears, your minds send out:
Experience the magic of Unicorn Horn!
It’s not us,
and we never were:
Children of the unicorn of magical mica.
But if we give ourselves in,
and the elves raise their voices,
we will soon be living with the unicorn.

The day you saw the light of day,
the sun sent us a new beam of light,
which with warmth and rich green feast
banished the witches‘ sorcery.
And so we enjoy what the autumn moon bestows,
give ourselves in to lute and melody,
rejoice in the morning dew, which heavily lowers the leaves of plants
and dance with joy and the steed’s magic in mind.

Oh, to be among the unicorn’s chosen ones,
no fear of the forlorn can disturb us.
We dance in the meadows by the whispering wonders,
and ride on lightning and command thunders.
Oh, you horned steed of great stature
we celebrate to your honor, magical creature.
We raise our tankards, water the past year:
In the house of the unicorn in which we linger forever.

The Crying Lute
By Gannt

The lute in mine hands as I softly strum,
cries for it knows the hollow man I have become,
of my tragedy, of my sorrow, of my lonely despair.
Only my lute listens, alone, only it cares.

Though I am a knight,
and mine emotions I hide,
I still feel the soul-eating darkness inside.
I am a man of armour and a man of the sword,
but the blackness I feel I cannot ward.

The green swine came, silent coward attacks,
with bow and arrow, with sword and axe.
They came for our blood, for our flesh to eat,
We hacked them to death, our blades flaying their meat.

Though I have loved her, she still left this life,
her pale white skin pierced by a goblin’s bloody knife.
But I am left here, an empty shell of a man.
I cannot speak, the sorrow is more than I can stand.

Others drink themselves blind, but I cannot partake
The others celebrate, but smiles I can’t fake.
I will sit here by the fire and softly strum,
only my lute knows the hollow man I have finally become.

The Crying Lute
By Gannt

The lute in my hands, playing a sad tune.
Because it realizes what a shadow of myself I am:
The tragedy, my grief, the quiet despair.
Only my lute listens to me, knows about the lack of meaning in my life.

Although, as a knight in shining armour
I know how to hide my feelings,
Inside me I feel the soul devouring blackness.
I am a man of armor, a man of sword and sweat,
but the darkness, I cannot eradicate.

Silently and cowardly, the pigs attacked, the Green
with sword and axe, with bow and arrow.
The monsters, as big as giants, wanted to butcher us
but they died as our blades ran through their flesh.

Though I loved her, she was taken from me,
pierced by a bloody knife of a goblin man.
I am alone, soullessly hollow, dazed by loss.
I can’t speak, the grief is more than I can bear.

Others drink themselves blind, celebrate loudly without being squeamish.
The others are having fun. I can’t believe it. What madness.
I’m gonna sit here by this fire and strum quietly,
only my lute know what shadow of myself I am.