A/N: Hiya! I'm thinking about doing a series of poems now, and this one is about Gandalf's regrets of what Middle-Earth has become.
I might get stuff wrong, because I haven't read book 3, and only read half of book 2. I found it sooo boring. Book 1 was great, though! Book 2 was jus eugh…The idea of this poem belongs to me, but no, none of the charcters do.
Requiem for Regrets
I open my eyes, and look around.
The world has changed.
We are merely a flickering shadow of what it once was.
No one to carry my flame, no one to bear my torch.
Prithebi poræ geche… the world has fallen…
Prithebi poræ geche… the world has fallen…
Tumi are kicchu na… tomar dorkar nai… You are no one. You are not needed.
The world has been daag'd, marked.. We will fall, eventually.
Saruman has turned against us, Boromir's mind was tainted.
The rest will follow suit.
We hope, searching blindly for something to grasp on.
Is there anything left to hold on to?
I am the White, now. Gandalf the White. Do they hold on to me?
Mishuk ra morbe… The innocent will die….
Desh dhongsho hoi jabe… Countries will be leveled…
Nogor shomotol hoi jabe… Cities will be crushed…
What will be left, at the end?
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A/N: So, whadja think? I know I kind of left it hanging, but it was a thinking type of poem. No, this one's not found poetry. Purely my imagination. ^_^ And the other language is Bengali, that I used.
Review, review, review!