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Tankas From The West


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Tankas From The West

Charlotte Henrietta

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From the ruins of Vienne, despite the fires that burned brightly throughout the city, laid a small collection of books and manuscripts. In hopes of expanding my private collection of historical entries, I've salvaged the decipherable texts from those of which were destroyed beyond human repair. Through this process I did find one thing that struck me: the tanka. A poetry style from Yong Ping that followed the rhythm of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. In earnest effort, I have managed to come up with a collection of my own personal Tankas. I hope others will follow suit and keep this, seemingly ancient tradition, alive. Here are those tankas.

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Aaun

From the brimstone of

Heartache filled homes and store-fronts,

Emerges forthright

From the ground, Horen's hand, which

Grabs the bright star of Oren

 

The white tower, flow

From hills of milk and honey

O'er hill and dale-

Fill the hearts of men again

Fill mine heart too, o' Horen.

 

Future Child

My love, child of mine

Your eyes look like grandfather,

Hair like grandmother-

There's fire in your spirit-

Burning embers, burning coal

 

Far from exalted

Near and closest to my heart

You laugh and I, too,

Quickly fall to remedies

Of the soul; you, my comfort

 

Your grandmother wanted

You quickly, soon after my

Twenty-fist name day

I waited in spite for you

You are mine, my future child

 

Burgundy

Remember those wars

Of old. Old men on high horse

Young girls on fleeting-

Chasing, yearning, wanting, more

For their white robes covered in

 

Red. Deep red like the

Womb, which bled onto sheets and-

eventually 

Like their husbands thrown in war

Bleeding that deep burgundy

 

Architect's Daughter

Father, did you see?

I wrote your name, Charles, like the

tree we passed by, did-

You notice? I've grown wings too

Outstretched like your arms 'round me.

 

I think I'll be like

You. An Architect. Nation

Building, your prime craft,

Drawing will be mine - castles

To add to your conquest map

 

I like that idea,

Passing time, side by side, like

the tree we passed by.

Two birds, one me, the other

you, chirping, hearing, watching

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SIGNED,

Her Royal Highness, Charlotte Henrietta, Princess of Aaun

5th of the Amber Cold, 1898

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