The story I’m about to tell / Has roots in love and wisdom
Like any legend ever born it stands between reality and myth
– for Sant Jordi did exist.
A Roman soldier with strong faith and a belief in Good
And he stood tall as tall can be / A martyr for his Truth
He died for Faith, he died oppressed and he became a symbol.
Saint George, Sant Jordi, Gheorghe, Goran
Just different language in the end / But what we celebrate, in fact…
The tale as old as time — good’s triumph over evil
– so grab a needle, grab a thimble
And let’s sew it together — and just this once we’ll change the game
And make the legend fun — for that itself won’t be a crime
So we begin — It seems but fair -
With once upon a time…
In a pint-sized village, just West of Barcelona
With twisted yellow brick-roads and houses made of stone
Lived a community of farmers. The name is yet unknown.
By seeing things from distance, all life appeared but normal
And one could even say — all washed in plain routine
As all that met the eye was just medieval dull, without no real appeal
However, don’t be harsh, and don’t be quick to judge
As there was more to this than quickly meets the eye…
Just like a Disney classic, the elements all shuffle
Up the hill, imagine — a proud, immense, colossal
A King’s own solemn castle
And in this mighty structure (build God knows how, without the help of CAD )
Lived a Princess of such grace to whom all people bowed
For she was lovely, pure and kind and knew nothing of sorrow
And there she waltzed and laughed and sang, spreading her purest joy –
A beauty of such power, to take your breath away
Like Helena of Troy.
Beyond the fairytale, however, we’re bound to look at facts.
And every story has its share of quite disturbing acts.
That joy and glee we spoke at first — blessing the farmer’s lives
Suffered a mild disruption — as time to time, once in a while
A Dragon would appear. All of a sudden, waken up, sometimes in Spring, sometimes in Summer
And he was angry once he did — and might I add quite greedy
And since the story does not follow the route of Game of Thrones
You can imagine how this quickly, became a public issue, with different undertones.
At first the farmers took it well, as this was rare display
They fed him cattle — sheep and cows, a trade for his departure.
And for a while, this worked so well — for this was the array
However, by a twist of fate — there was a change in matrix
It seemed that nothing that he ate would fall into his graces
Or he was bored with this Covid, and lacking interaction
The social distancing, appears to change all needs and patterns.
Let’s turn our focus, at this stage
On how the farmers acted. Though sweet and peaceful in appearance
There was a fire burning. And just like any other human
When faced with death and peril
They lost their heads a little bit and all became unsettled
What fitter sacrifice to give, to bribe the fuming Creature?
Than the most rare of Roses? The fairest in the kingdom?
Which makes you think a bit about their mental feature…
The King, her father, loved her so, of that I certify
She was, to use a common phrase, the apple of his eye
And yet, oppressed by all and in the face of revolt
He did what any King would do, given this is a myth
The terms of service of the story required he forfeit
And so it happened in the end — The Princess had to go
And from her sacrifice of life remove the mighty foe.
The King, however, prayed and prayed and urged implored and potter
We understood this is a legend, but to be frank, she was his daughter.
He cried for help, he wept in sorrow, he asked the skies for mercy
He pleaded for a Hero, a Giant, an Unworldly
To come with wit and grace and power
And save his precious Flower…
And from his burning prayer, the vault turned dark in color
The wind blew strong, the clouds piled up — a manifest of sorrow
The day turned black, the Sun had gone — it seemed all Hope would perish…
But in that moment Faith and Beauty would flourish once again
As from a place of Nothing, came rushing like a storm
A Knight in shining armor, the Love in human form
And he was not a King, and nor was he a farmer
He was Sant Jordi, brave and worthy
With shield in hand and sword in other, our mighty Hero fought so bravely
He ran the dragon through with his weapon
And freed the Princess and the others, thus stopping the oppression
The Dragon did not stand a chance, objectively speaking
With such a strength, and such a virtue, Sant Jordi had him kneeling
And from the blood that left his veins — as far as eyes could see
A field of roses grew — the story’s apogee
Sant Jordi — a gentleman by nature ( a manner’s connoisseur )
After the sturdy battle and in the crowd ovation
Bend his knee and plugged one rose -
An offer to the Princess — a sign of honor. A proof of liberation.
There could be different manners for us to end the story
A lesson here to learn, a quote, or a cliché
But what I do propose is just an introspection
An inside view — a change of angle — a bit of self-reflection
We all have Dragons that appear — all of a sudden, waken up, sometimes in Spring, sometimes in Summer…
And they are angry once they do — and might I add quite greedy..
And yet — you’re not a King, living a myth, required to forfeit…
So find that strength from deep within, as you do have the power, the wit, the energy, the force
You do have all of those.
And push that Dragon far away and be reborn into a rose…