You anathematize your loneliness, but see
Theseus, he had cruelty abandoned Ariadne,
though she saved him, established him as hero,
then she followed him blindly, without thread,
for his grace she dropped the crown of Knossos.
Are you torn to pieces? Ariadne suffered more,
was left along the pointed rocky shores of Naxos,
as if she drowned on land rather than in ocean.
Yet Dionysus arrived there to bring her to Cyprus,
the aura opened up her heavy eye-lashes,
the sun painted her cheeks pink, singing for her:
I’m the river flowing into your sea,
I’m the dew resting in your foliage,
we both, as one, form a chapel,
we, two discs in one, moon and sun.
Do not cry. The roaring fondles the hope,
the new lover is arriving as your nice savior.
If he himself cannot donate you happiness,
at least he helps you to escape from misery.
© JosephJosephides
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem