Hanseti-Ruskan Works: Art, Literature, and Music

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HANSETI-RUSKAN WORKS: ART, LITERATURE, AND MUSIC

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Songs

I. The Haeseni Soldier

II. Deryzcz
III. Home Across the Mountains
IV. The Road to War
V. Ode to The Fallen

 

Artwork
I. The Siege of Southbridge

 

Poems
I. Beneath the Willow Tree
II. Gone
III. The Perfect Flower
IV. Desiring
V. Palace of Haverlock

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SONGS

 

I. The Haeseni Soldier (link)

 

A farmer’s boy with little worth,
goes to the army.
He joins the soldiers on a march,
as his mother prays at home.

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy,
wields his long sword bravely.
He trains and trains until he faints,
and his brothers treat him gently.

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy,
his head held high and mighty.
He fights for those he loves at home,
although it pains him greatly.

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy,
is now an admired sergeant.
He trains his fellow soldiers,
and prays they come back home

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy
fights the gruesome wars,
And although his mother prays at home,
her soldier boy is gone

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy,
drifts into the skies.
His life was worth so very much,
and his brothers cries his name

 

A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy,
looks down upon the army.
He hopes they keep on fighting,
as their Koeng needs them greatly

 

By Her Ladyship, Erika Renate Barclay 

 

II. Deryzcz (link)

 

By His Highness, Gustaf Sigismund Morovar

 

III. Home Across the Mountains (link)

 

By Firr Feodor May

 

IV. The Road to War (link)

 

By Firr Feodor May

 

V. Ode to the Fallen (link)

 

By Firr Feodor May 

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ARTWORK

 

I. The Siege of Southbridge (link)

 

 

By Her Ladyship, Sofiya Antonia vas Ruthern

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POEMS

 

I. Beneath the Willow Tree (link)

 

Come hither, my darling
And join me upon the hill
Battle rages across the ground
Clashes of might and will
 
Smoke and flame billows
Up towards GODAN’s skies
Watch as steel meets flashing steel
Hear the orphan’s cries
 
Come hither, my darling
As we tread this bloodsoaked ground
Find your heart and listen
To the hallowed sound
 
Deep in the wood
Where meadow meets glade
There, you shall find it
Sitting beneath a willow’s shade
 
Come hither, my darling
What is it you hear?
The sound of memories long faded
Words once held dear
 
Echoes of those long past
Sit deep in your heart
Gone but not forgotten
Never truly apart
 
Come hither, my darling
And sit beneath the willow tree
Is it not peaceful?
Here, you are entirely free
 
GODAN, save the Brotherhood
Protect them from melancholy
So they may dance forever
Beneath the willow tree

 

By Her Royal Highness, Klara Elizaveta, Duchess of Baranya

 

II. Gone (link)

 

It dipped into the depths, this last light of mine.
Entrenched in this darkness, I waste away in this 
Gloom ridden tower. The skies floods with dark, 
Warm colors.. I shout, but I am consumed by 
The splashing of the waves upon rocks 
On the cliffside. Nothing remains for all shall 
Fall into ruin. Just as the sun disappears behind 
The sea, so too shall you disappear under the earth.

 

By His Lordship, Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

III. The Perfect Flower (link)

 

You are a dream, a myth, a ghost
Running through meadows in hopes 
Of finding the most perfect flower.
A trophy to hold up, the greatest boast
A shadow to be sung of only in odes
The broken stem of a perfect flower

 

By His Lordship, Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

IV. Desiring (link)

 

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Love is a poor actor
Always forgetting his lines,
Tripping over himself,
But anyone who has ever loved
Cannot say that
He does not plunge 
Headfirst into his role

 

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The yearning of the heart
Is the most deepest of desires.
Anyone can be
The object of my yearning.
Each one is always special,
But desiring in itself
Is the most desirable thing of all.

 

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Have you ever walked out
Amongst the fenland
And seen the pale pink
Fingers of the sunset 
Gently reach across the sky,
So you can almost feel
Them stroke your cheek

 

 And have you gone down
To the dark, glass surface,
And felt the waters
Lap gently at the edges of 
Your face and smiled,
Feeling drops trickle down
And collect around your lips 

 

And sat down on the ridgeline 
Sighing softly to the horizon
As the swans fly across,
Smelt snowdrops and jasmine, then
Twisted them into a little ring
Of delicate and pretty petals,
And drank all this in with your gaze

 

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I draw my finger across his face
Gently tracing every contour
Along his cheek and chin,
I pull his jaw close to me;
He is a sculpture. His
Black, curly hair, 
velvet lashes,
Green eyes.
Is this not bliss?
But nothing lasts and
This too cannot. Though
My hate simmers for her,
The heart yet cannot lie, and 
Time polishes all desires and
Now I dream such golden dreams
Of him.

 

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 Enough wine and
There is little distinction 
Between a common harlot
And a noble lady
Wine tears off all veils 
And the blemish
Becomes the beauty-spot 
And the latter the former 
And the former the latter 

 

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By Firress Ceciliya Smirnova

 

V. Palace of Haverlock (link)

 

You pull me into this wonderful place in which 
I do not recognize. Flawlessly, scrubbed, white walls
And dustless dark oak floors. I could have sworn that I 
Saw little specks of twinkling around me as I moved past. 

 

What started as a maze, quickly became a game. 
We duck in and out of rooms, trying to open every 
Locked door. We run down hallways and spiraling stairs 
On which, often only leads us back to where we began.

 

It is an Ironic thing, a place large enough to 
Awe at, yet close enough to barely stand
Shoulder to shoulder within the hallways. 
It is a beautiful, confusing, complex work of art.

 

By His Lordship, Borris Iver Kortrevich 

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Should you wish to have your works published in Volume II, please contact HRH, Klara Elizaveta by bird. (pudding#7426)

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SIGNED,
Her Royal Highness, Klara Elizaveta, Duchess of Baranya