This is the story of a soldier who lived in Ahul-alla, who lost his beloved in an attack by the unknown enemy. This sad poem is purely artistic in style and is bound to carry you in an era when bravery was earned and men were made after going through hell, Gate of Ahul-alla Hell!
This Part 1 narrates the location of Ahul-alla and also gives a brief on how manhood was earned. Part 2 of this sad poem will carry the legacy further. So don’t forget to read it too.
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Men of Ahul-alla and Blood of A True Warrior
Hate upon at the behest of love a little strange,
Thou hath the resounding belief, but shattered:
The wolves of Ahul-alla and the lions of Ahul-alla Hell,
The rich smoke smothered numerous lives with disdain,
But a few in honor, the bones molten and flesh vaporized,
But the sweet sound of lovely memories still resounding with fervor at best!
Hail the King of Ahul-alla who throned a small but powerful kingdom,
Where love sweeter and hatred disdained. The sea around
And the view of the Gate of Ahul-alla Hell, a feverish volcano, gave warmth
And courage to inlanders; never at rest, the fabulous stories of smoke so
Thick and flowing rage did wonders and in awe put as well as deepest remorse,
Yet the fumes of which never harmed Ahul-alla,
Hence the Gate of Ahul-alla Hell, a place of dread and a place to find bravery alone,
The molten thin air and the malaise at best, where dost thou escape,
Fight and die a martyr or be lost forever as an unknown lost soul,
And if thou were to come in a piece, the finest laurels of Ahul-allalish raised,
The kisses of King’s sword and the purest wine made by fair Queen herself,
Cherish and rise, a soldier and a true man defined.
‘A lady of thy kind thou must choose and sleep with,’ the King would roar.
‘Take her into the forest for a purest love,
And her slender white arms and ample white bosom to drown in,
Long hairs to soak thy sweat and breaths, and reddest lip to touch wine.
Thou earned a right warrior, now rise thou must and the sweetest lady
Bathed in freshest roses to honor thy strong big arms,’ the Queen would utter
And the thumping sound of a sorcerer’s beat around a kindled fire
Matched well the roar of the pure warrior blood.
And the warrior would rise up and wave long shining sword,
And the spark of fire to match with.
Hail to kind and bravest King and glorious Queen,
This sword to oath to match desires, and a vow to die brave,
And this blood to only flow and only kiss enemies’ vulnerable hearts.
Hail to the King and Queen of Ahul-alla!
We sincerely hope you liked the sad love poem. As mentioned earlier, we would be back soon with Part 2 of this sad love poetry.