The Knight

"A soul, which is full of belief,
Always generous, clever,
Feels compassion and grief—
Blessed forever..."

Dedicated to the defenders of Rhodes.

The good-natured dawn gives a new, ordinary day
For the one whose brave soul has no fear,
And though this cutting wind tries to rip his worn but reliable cloak
From his tired and wounded shoulder,
Yet he drives all his vague heavy doubts away,
While he holds this sharp sword in his hand and the spear
He will never retreat from this border.
So he stands here like a solid unbreakable rock
To prevent any foe from advancing further.
And the dry, dusty ground is covered with a pall,
That brings bitterness into the eyes and the smell of burning tar,
Yet he sees the sunrise and there, far away,
A flock of magnificent cranes flying in the blue sky
For a moment, it brings him a feeling of his native place
Where once he vowed to carry mercy and grace,
Everywhere, to always be fair and honest, to despise any lie,
Even always be ready at any moment to die,
Face danger head-on...

Many others like him stand side by side
Clad in armor and holding their shields in their arms,
Each with a fiercely beating heart,
Filled with the spirit of holy belief and pride.
They haven’t come from fields or farms,
All of them are masters of military art.

The call of duty has brought them together this time
To defend their Order of Hospitallers,
Based on the island of Rhodes, at the edge of two seas
With their brave and strong leader, Grand Master Phillip de Villiers,
More a father to them, their prime,
Never resting in his vigilant care.

The hard Turkish bombardment destroyed the bell tower of St. Paul’s Church,
But it has not shaken the faith of the citizens in their defense,
And the English tower is brutally blasted, resembling a ruthless and demonic torch,
Yet the defenders strive to halt the invaders, their cruelty, and violence.

Janissaries occupy the shore,
Right outside the inner walls of the ruined English Tower,
And the knights are prepared to meet them and give a worthy defense.
There are shattered stones and dust, the ground is sore
From the surge of rage, wild and boundless power,
So that all can feel its frantic pulse.

Over the years past
On this fruitful and beautiful island
Many people's thoughts and experiences,
Like a fresh, lively wind, swiftly covered everything,
Brought enlightenment and clarity to many weak, sleepy souls,
So it finally became their new home, their land,
Where earthly men found long-awaited goodness at last,
Witnessed genuine grace and true compassion appear,
Even some say touched by God's holy hand
Helped build the place from dust.

And now is the time,
When fate presents a test of strength to all residents,
Shaking the entire island from top to bottom.
The weary bells filled with anxious chime;
Again and again confirming the presence of horror,
The Grand Master draws his sharp sword from its sheath.

Here he gives a clear signal
To prepare for an offensive,
The Knights of Saint John are fully prepared,
There's no time to waste, time is precious,
And they bravely advance to meet their fate;
None intend to surrender,
Each stands at this gate.

One of them has a wounded shoulder,
Who, with others, draws his strong sword from its sheath,
When sharp, piercing pain shoots through the knight's bleeding hand;
Though pain remains, even with wisdom and age,
Yet he goes with others, gritting his teeth,
To take this final decisive stand.

And the deafening clash
Of swords rings through the air,
The gap in the ranks quickly closes.
Now soldiers on the front line face a powerful, thunderous clash,
And crossbows release their deadly sharp arrows,
Claiming the lives of good men and attackers alike,
Indiscriminately rough and unjust.

A Janissary swings his sword,
And brings it down on the knight,
But he dodges the blow at the very last moment,
Then the knight engages his enemy in a worthy battle,
And defeats him effortlessly.

Another fierce opponent,
Seizes the opportunity and attacks,
Shouting furiously, swallowing dust,
The Janissary's face is grim and brutal,
The knight misses a sharp, deadly thrust
Of the enemy’s spear, and the powerful blow
Knocks him down ruthlessly and swiftly,
Falling unconscious, devoid of strength,
Yet his mind struggles, clinging to the flow,
Clenching his bloody fists as a last act.

For a moment, he feels
Strength leaving him rapidly,
The tumultuous surroundings dissolve into the air,
Voices faintly and weakly reach his ears,
Then disappear, without reason, somewhere,
And the pain from wounds no longer appears…

He opens his eyes,
And sees a beautiful glow;
It surrounds him, a glorious sound
Flows from the magnificent outgoing light,
Vast and incredible, boundless,
This place, friendly and heavenly bright,
Open and clear, without disguise,
He marvels in wonder around,
With genuine joy and surprise.

"Where am I?
What is this place?
It’s beautiful and full of grace!"
Though not uttered aloud,
His thoughts create the sound—
An echo in empty space.

Then he sees,
From the light
Glowing figures of people appear,
With ease
They approach the knight.
Their faces now clear.
He falls to his knees,
Dazed and surprised,
For there are all his friends,
And the people he knows,
From distant ends of the world,
Among them even those
Who long ago passed on,
Each emanating
An unearthly glow,
Creating a beautiful flow of sound.

"Rise from your knees,
My dear faithful friend,"
A gentle voice says from above,
"This place is a temple of holy grace and peace,
Your earthly trials have reached their end,
Now you deserve forgiveness and love!

"Please, join them,
They are all your friends,
You've saved your island, upheld your strong belief,
Your earthly life will live on as a poem,
But here, in this holy realm, life never ends,
And you'll know no more loss or grief!"

The knight rises,
His soul suddenly filled
With immense happiness and joy,
Pure and undefiled alloy...

     *           *           *

He joins his friends, as the story goes,
And other knights who perished in those days,
Who went to their holy lights.

Through the years,
Centuries passed,
The unfading memory of those challenging paths,
Of the faithful knights and Philip de Villiers,
Who bravely fell defending Rhodes,
Will live on with honor, in verse.

         ~~~~~+++~~~~~