You accuse my stepbrother that he envies my glory.
Why? Because he curved in the dark ‘King Philippos’
on the Temple of Karnak, to cheat you? However,
History doesn’t buy seaweed instead of silky ribbons!
Come with me on the chariot of the sun of sixteen darts
all of you, my teachers, artists, architects, generals;
in nights let us talk with the owl on wisdom not on dark.
Because if we wish victories in the field of knowledge,
of muses, of works, of education for all, you young men,
if we want enviable Alexandrias and light spread around,
better transmit the Message of Olympia, even to deserts.
In Egypt, following my coronation as Great King Ammon,
as High Priest I stepped me leg forward; do the same,
as Couros does, the six-meter defender of Samos,
lets form the rock into Petra, the course into Course
with tools that the crafty conspirers do not possess.
As for the History, she possesses a bed of Procrustes,
ties the thief on, measures and cuts his long sly arm,
any else that grasps glory without the right to do so.
Philippos, you erected your idol in Karnak to worship you,
but the next ambitious man will throw it to erect his own.
History claims a gallop in sunshine, not a somnambulism.
Onward, my brave men, with sarissa* and a superior spirit.
Full speed, dear horse Voukefalas**, for the Great Chapter.
© JosephJosephides
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem