Crusader Cervantes in Cyprus
when reached the shore said to me:
'I’m optimistic though desperate.
I give all subterranean things to rulers
and I’m going to dwell in the stars. My work
if it’s not a leader, I shall cut off my hand.'
Then Aphrodite emerged in front of him;
offered her his pen as ring for the wedding,
she wore a wedding dress made of foams,
instead of a dowry she offered him kisses,
to me, their best man, she gave cyclamens.
She adored him so much that swooped
and cut her hands on a pickaxe aside.
'Let my hands be cut to save yours, else
the evil will make brilliant ideas as dust.
As for me, even with no hands I’m desirable! '
So she sets her lofty in the Museum of Nicosia
where tourists with cameras see her with lust.
Comes home and liberates from his inkwell:
the horse, the helmet and the spear,
also her own aura to give time to his time
and rushes against the Windmills of injustice.
© JosephJosephides
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem