Caterina Cornaro Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

You aren’t Artemisia in Salamis, equal to thousand men,
or a Carthaginian breastfeeding while crossing the Alps,
you are a mom of an orphan with a scepter of soft wood,
preferring the favour of your people than a royal guard,
a catholic who chants with orthodox folks the same God
and buys with her money necessaries for them to live.

When I, your knight, was enjoying your kiss in secret
the Venicians openly took the crown from your head;
so I lose you, they give you pension, a castle in Azolo.
In this chaos, do you fear with hope or hope with fear?
Can you save the love in you, beyond superior orders?

Come aboard and gently bid farewell to the people
of Lefkousia, Limnissos*, Kition, Palaipafos, Kyrenia,
face with dignity your sorrow, be modest when in joy.
At Venice, you’ll not recognize the city as a swimmer
but as a sad place covered with the mask of carnival,
now the gondola-rowers look at the corroded poles
and sing to the lovers with a languish, hoarse voice.

The poetry bag contains joy, sorrow and their mixture,
take with you a Cypriot bread; you hear friends inside it
the sower, the reaper, the miller-woman and the baker;
take also the Cypriot flower ‘athanato’ that never dies,
smile and remember us when on the Bridge of Sighs.



© JosephJosephides