On their chariots they loaded the thrakean uniforms,
with all the sketches and colours of their country,
the Monastery, the palm tree and the pine tree,
the partridge, the tree branch, the flower, the eagle,
the bridge, the two-headed and single-headed symbols.
On chariots the twenty seven sarakatsanican aprons:
one for the married woman, one for the unmarried,
the divorced, the mam of few kids, the mam of many.
On their chariots they loaded the engraved spindles,
the gifts of the groom for the bride and her mother.
Then put to oath the snake of the house to protect it.
At the time they passed the Adrianoupolis’ bridge,
there at the bridge of Michale, they shed a silent tear,
voiced out their obstinacy that soon one day they’ll return.
Thanks for welcoming us, Salonica, home of same soil.
Here folks, unload the uniforms, the aprons and spindles,
the wounded Thrake; our logo 'Never forget'. Let us all go
to marry the boy to the girl he fell in love with, on the way.
Welcome in the marsh, brothers from Salonica; thanks
for your gifts. Approach to see us enthroning our groom.
Let our whole race raise him high and proclaim trice:
meritorious, meritorious, meritorious
the proper tradition that a Byzantine emperor deserves,
the proper tradition to every youngster from Thrake
our blood is colouring his royal purple.
© JosephJosephides
A picturesque poem in paint color rhythm drawn in elegant lines that rhyme...a good read, Joseph...must rate this 10
Wisdom leaps out from the pages of your pieces, this being no exception. Utterly engaging with its elegance and subtle rhyme scheme. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there is so much there, i do not know where to begin. The imagery had me swimming in a sea, and i am still gasping for breath. Beautiful. cjm