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Green of Madder, Red of Spring

Summary:

On goodbyes and birthdays
Or
An excuse to post bad old english poetry

Notes:

CW: Bad Poetry and AOT/SNK S4 spoilers

Enjoy or don't, I am not a poet nor am I a linguist. Rather, this is what happens when insomnia and a sudden interest in rudimentary linguistics mix. Thanks for reading.

Work Text:

Sēo blæcce hafoc-fugel geberan eallgrēne mædercīþ.

Hēo flēah þone windrǣs,

Hēo ādīlegian lēof bān under sunnan.

Þines mearctrēow.

[][]Modern Translation[][]

The black hawk holds a green sprig of madder.

She fled the storm of wind,

To bury beloved bones in memories under sunlight.

Their boundary tree.