In the Sound of Nevsky

In a rush of drums and death comes the sound
the breathe, the flames of war.

Strings that slither and hiss like the winds
across a frozen landscape.

Bells ring out, processional triumph
that marks its place in history.

A choir cries aloud
as rushing armies collide.

Barrages of percussion crash down
as heavily armed invaders
falling thorough ice.

A lone female voice sings
on the field of the dead.

Beauty and bravery
have faded and died.

The great campaign written out
across a canvas of sound.

Smashing history and lives
to save the motherland.

- after Alexander Nevsky, Sergi Prokofiev.