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Long it was lost, the tale of the Fall of Pamplona, the last of the ancient Spanish cities on Bob. The last city on Bob to withstand the unholy forces of Neu Demogyptica and the Glory of War. But I have found it again between other papers of about 5 years ago.
The poem was originally written as a petrarca sonnet: 4-4-3-3. Not perfect, since the lines differ greatly in the number of syllabes, but my English was not as good then as it is today.
The Fall of Pamlona
Pamplona, an ancient city proud and great,
A stronghold believed never to fall,
The Spanish capital and King's seat,
Has suddenly faded the hopes of all.
In the church the defenders were praying,
On a Sunday morning, for which the Arabs do not care.
Neither do the Chinese, on a hilltop staying.
And thus it wasn't seen how they gathered there.
With drawn swords they came storming,
And broke with great losses through the massive gate.
It was a watchful merchant who gave the warning.
But for the unfortunate citizens it came too late:
Because though all defenders fought bravely that morning,
Without a sacred host and blessing, they lacked faith.
The poem was originally written as a petrarca sonnet: 4-4-3-3. Not perfect, since the lines differ greatly in the number of syllabes, but my English was not as good then as it is today.
The Fall of Pamlona
Pamplona, an ancient city proud and great,
A stronghold believed never to fall,
The Spanish capital and King's seat,
Has suddenly faded the hopes of all.
In the church the defenders were praying,
On a Sunday morning, for which the Arabs do not care.
Neither do the Chinese, on a hilltop staying.
And thus it wasn't seen how they gathered there.
With drawn swords they came storming,
And broke with great losses through the massive gate.
It was a watchful merchant who gave the warning.
But for the unfortunate citizens it came too late:
Because though all defenders fought bravely that morning,
Without a sacred host and blessing, they lacked faith.