>>111991324The Arabic poem:
Elarion, seeds trembling
Lying on the ground on an icy night.
And in the cold
She withdrew her roots
Challenging the sting of the deadly winter.
Elarion, and her blooming flower,
afraid of wilting, darkness and death,
Had searched the dark
For a spark
And so the eyes of the hungry dragon flared.
Elarion, the frightened foundling
Stretched her white branches towards the night.
Asking the stars,
To receive her light,
And to stop the fire of the raging dragon.
Elarion, in a heavy rest,
cried while the stars of the skies turned black
They wore their masks,
Turned their backs,
And left Elarion to die.
Elarion, as her skin struggled death,
Withered and suffered in the dark,
Until the last star,
Reached out from far away
Its touch: a fire, a gift, a spark.
Elarion, and her blinding light,
Embraced the great black flame of night.
And when she bowed,
She declared her faith,
He whispered, "Aaravos," his name.
Elarion, black-eyed child,
her twisted roots spread deep and far,
The humans’ might
sparked by the light
of Aaravos, her midnight star.
