Oh! Mother of the greatest tragedy of ancient Greece
You who bore more importance that the golden fleece
For your ruby lips the men of olden days gave their lives
An army of fools willing to lose their souls in your eyes
The sight of your pale fingers and bosom firm and full
Inspired them to put on their armor and turned cruel
Worshiping your golden hair and your figure lithe
By desire you ceased to be human and became a myth
Heroes and villains alike felt the want of your favor
And for that alone they fought each other with fervor
The battlefield of sand soaked up the blood of men
Enchanted by your beauty and cursed by your name
The world of ancient lore thus breathed its last breath
As poets switched pens for swords to embrace death
Yet, no Gods wept for the fallen for they too had fell
For your eternal beauty may now women rest in hell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem