Sacred Band I

A drizzle starts to fall
upon the lands you lay;
may your crosses stay,
white marble to sprawl;

The three hundred died,
Inscribed lines of red,
as dusk crowned bled,
Charons baleful stride.

Eternal blooms to care
adorn Aurora's daughter
at a macabre slaughter
to maids tearful stare.

Glory bestows Laurels,
gray sky hails forsooth,
Thyrse on soils blooth,
invoking Churches bells.

Time passengers stand,
to hark battles clamors,
Nike in ethers glamors,
wraiths of Sacred Band.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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