Raez i Vlashtski | Out of my Control

[meowcelina 222]

RAEZ I VLASHTSKI

 

 

A POEM PENNED BY

Dorothea Isabel Barbanov-Bihar

12th day of Wzuvar ag Byvca of 424 ES

 

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NAUMARIAV TRANSKRIPTSIYA

~

Wjeik soon wjeik ve scent hity naaszei

Supaem oe wjeik ter ve swiat ma pvitenker skrehedren

Wjeik ter tea omavre nache wiem predkosc swiatla,

Ag wyzoren klonav tea zwemavre stracony schyzczieo entirely.

 

 Tear pczalwozel ciern ag zadlo,

Anz drganie ag skwarek.

Mea wlasny mametr's fabo calkowicie znieksztalcony

Ag epae oeer wjeik nie do poznania va eam,

Wjeik ea oeed va epaem.

 

Wupae oe wjeik ter ve lafz oe zapukal raez i team

Ag tear pluca oe wypelniony trucizna,

Warae ve bar wyleczyc va oe znaleziony oe iv ve halej

I ktokwolwiek, ohnsba, iv widok.

 

Ter ohn weo nosic noz oe czekam na dzgniecie.

Ter ohn tiz kly oe czekanie czekajac na ugryzienie.

Any dylevar oe wjeik hauchov wjeik ain dangna va ve osobaz wjeik ea.

Denn juz supae oe eam zwyen team wybierac va fitsk

 

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COMMON TRANSCRIPTION

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As soon as the scent hits your nose

It is as if the world has stopped turning

As if you are moving at light speed,

And those around you have lost their will entirely.

 

Your fingertips prickle and sting,

Hands twitching and crackling.

My own mother's face distorted entirely

And she was as unrecognisable to me,

As I was to her.

 

It is as if the air is knocked out of you

And your lungs are filled with poison,

Where the only cure to be found is in the neck

Of anyone, everyone, in sight.

 

Not all who carry a knife are waiting to stab.

Not all with fangs are waiting to bite.

Any man is as much as a danger to the people as I.

But yet it is me that you choose to fight.

 

Author’s Note: 

Dedicated to my father, Rhys var Ruthern, to whom this work would not exist without.

 

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BY BONES AND BARROWS,

Her Royal Highness, Dorothea Isabel of Barbanov-Bihar, Princess of Hanseti-Ruska, Dowager-Duchess of Schattenburg

Edited May 31, 2022 by meowcelina

[sarahbarah 5023]

Marie, the aforementioned mother in the poem, sobbed loudly as she read her daughter's beautiful piece of work.