John Lars Zwerenz
A Voyage To Cyprus
A VOYAGE TO CYPRUS
I ferried eastward, leaving Cythera, her wine,
Her temples of ivory, her boundless plains
Far, far behind me, as Macedonian rains
Filled the vast Aegean's brine.
And in that flowery Ionian wake
I encountered wanton zephyrs of blue,
Where Sirens, Aphrodite's retinue,
Sang solely for my sake.
I arrived on the green of the Cyprian shore
Whistling as a troubadour,
As the sun rose, burgeoning with gold and carmine.
I came upon a courtyard, and the roving of the vine,
Near the temple of Apollo,
In the diamond cradle of a scented billow.
And there in that square, wandering through dahlias
Went Pygmalion's beloved wife,
Enjoying her nuptial, graceful life,
Singing as a statue moonlit sonatas.
In my seafaring boots, I walked to a glade,
Where the radiant, fair Adonis drew
From far away, from the Olympian dew,
Lustful Aphrodite. (And he loved her in the shade.)
Then with a whisper, the Mycenae breeze
Called me back to the port, to the song of the seas,
Where I sat in a garden next to the harbor,
In a wistful arbor
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