An Elegy of the Faithful, Translated into the Common Tongue by the Jondeli

Hey, I won't be posting all of this. I'm entering a novel writing competition (check out www.bookartsbash.com!! ) and this is an excerpt from a novel I'm considering. PLEASE, I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRIT.!! Thanks!

   "Now, Annica, surely you realize that I did not invite you here simply for the pleasure of your company."
 This didn't surprise Annica.
  
"Nor have I summoned you here as a gesture of false solicitude."
 This did. Annica had thought that her aunt had invited her purely because it was proper and was good for her public image. Apparently not. There was a slight pause, as Lady Eldira peered at her niece with the same bold scrutiny Annica remembered from childhood.
 

Note: Mairead  wrote an essay of the same topic as this a few days ago...feeling inspired by it I have written something similar. But she had the original idea; not me!!

Dear Mommy,

I'm sorry that I cannot tell you all this in person; but I am very busy at the moment. I am busy growing bigger, growing taller, growing fatter, everyday. I should think you would be proud of this; but why is it so hard for you to keep me here?

Can you hear me? Please try. Please hear me mamma. I want to know you. Why don’t you want to know me? Why don’t you feel my longing? Why don’t you feel my yearning? Why can’t you understand my love for you?

Mamma, I want to see your beautiful face. I want to hear your voice murmur softly. I want to feel your hands gently caress me. I want you to love me. I just can’t understand this. Why are you so blind to my miracle?

Sparrow
No pretty song to recommend me,
No colorful coat of which to boast.
Little wings in dusty brown,
Black eyes of no importance
And an earthy song
Are all I lay claim to.
Others birds laugh and sigh
To see such a bird as I,
Who lacks even a tiny splash
Of brighter color.
Yet happiness fills me
And I sing despite my
Awkward harmony.
For I own a piece of the sky...

In a small town there is a street
Where the chapel and the forest trees meet
And on this street there lives a girl
Who has given all she once prized for a pearl
It is pure, white, and perfect, set in a ring
Radiance, life, light, and joy does it bring
But when outsiders appear, the girl covers her hand
She will not share her treasure with the land.
    What will her gravestone say?

On a sun-bathed cliff, under sky, over sea
There is a boy who knows he is free
To a people who cannot comprehend his choice

 Between the night and sunrise

The dark is silent

—no birdsong, squirrel-kin chatter—

only the moving, shifting, stirring…

deepening…fading…

fellowship of the trees.

Before the sun-lit wind-song leaf-dance,

Merry façade of joy at fate—

Quiet…feeling…fellowship.

Resigned contentment,

Accepting what has always been,

But at the same time, a struggle,

The desire to hold off a little longer

Against the long unknowing winter.

Smiles without laughter,

Unspoken mutual sympathy