excerpt. quiet night, transparent sky, stars twire

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the shire was stirring as but muffled.
a spark was flaring for a while.
friends of the bloody days of yore
were dote in hope for people' war,
they murmured, with conceited questions,
so that the ruler breaks their bonds,
and their careless excitation
impatiently awaited for.
around the leader there sounded
rebellious cry: it's time, come on!
but the old ruler stayed unaltered
obedient subject of an oath.
while keeping his accustomed sterness,
he guided the shire calm and plainess,
he didn't seem to mind the noise/node
and feasted by indifferent mode.
[...]
but cautiously old age does walk
and looks suspiciously of.
what's possible and what is must not
it will decide not at a point.
who'd dare to descend in the depths,
who with a testing mind and search
would penetrate the weird abyss
of cunning soul? thoughts in here,
the fruits of passions, long suppressed,
lie sunken deeply in profound,
and plots and plans of ancient days,
perhaps, are riping in a lone.

who knows? but the more the chief is evil/angry,
the more his heart is sly and false, -
the more he seems to be uncareful/uncarring
and easy going debonair.
how can he masterfully facile
attract and puzzle out hearts,
to rule on minds completely safely,
and to define the others' darks!
with such credulity deceitful,
so genially at his dines,
among the elders, chatty he is,
nostalgic for the days past by,
along the self-willed lauds freedom,
between the rebels reviles grippers,
with furious one, - the tears he sheds,
and with a fool, wise talk he has!
I guess, not many likely know,
his spirit is untameable,
that he is glad by any method
to harm his enemies and viers;
that not a slightest single offense he
since he lives did not forget,
and far onward the cruel prospects
the haughty elder did extend;

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