In epochs past, when this clouded planet
was still cloaked in crystal firmament,
every star orders of magnitude brighter,
night lighter, day dazzling, climate temperate,
Saturn reigned. His halo regal, celestial,
from royal ring, fifth from sun, shone brighter
by far than now, diadem of solar system.
Brute Jupiter, from reaches further flung
than Pluto now plies, was tossed by dark star out,
even now retracing shadowy path, returning.
Then there was war, for, Jupiter loosed,
set course to conquer planets' pride, Saturn.
Neptune and Uranus, titans, first wall of defence,
threw up their shields, their moons, hurling them
in massed charge against the invading intruder.
Then Pluto was torn from Neptune's arm, stripped free
to wander. Neptune flipped over on his back. Uranus
put up stoic fight but, battle momentum to mighty
Jupiter, even he bowed before conquering invader, now
sweeping forth, unobstructed, to claim solar system crown.
Saturn, sensing end of his reign, to avert ruin
of weaker children, abdicated, fled to further orbit.
Spectacle lit up all the firmament. A dragon devoured
the sky. Mars, panicked, froze. Earth reeled. Your moon
spun in its socket. Every planet was pierced. Then,
jealous Jupiter, settling on throne, lit up asteroid belt
like the fourth of July. Now, in spite of comet shield
and string of moons strung like chain of bells one tap
can set all tolling, uneasy sits Jupiter's crown.
A watcher, he waits for return of his father.
Your conquering king is just an old Oedipus.
So don't invoke his order, nor any planet's grace.
By brute force the throne was taken, and that might
is no power with me, nor can any planet claim
my allegiance. The gift of grace comes from higher order.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem