2 January 2013
A fresh drop of rain falls from the mournful clouds, A storm of bloodshed and misery. Through layer upon layer of smoggy sky, Down to the withering plains below.
Scenes of utter carnage - deaths beyond measure. Defenders and attackers lie as brothers: Three hundred spartans and three thousand Persians, All food to the undistinguishing vultures.
Our droplet spatters onto an iron helmet: The final stand of a courageous king, Mixing with the very essence of life, It flows into the underworld beneath.
Brave Leonidas, and his bold 300 All but annihilated in this pass of death. Spartan, Thespian and Arcadian: All massacred by the Persian threat.
The living spirits will wash away, The bodies will decompose. 'So go tell the Spartans, passerby, That here, obedient to their laws, we lie.'
This poem is about the battle of Thermopylae. The final two lines are carved onto a monument to the dead Spartan soldiers.
Death Of 300 • Opuss № I