Clinging to the edge of time's oblique sphere
within the storybook of myth I fall
victim to Europa tending her field,
Homer, Phoenicia and the Trojan War.
Chicory, foxglove and digitalis,
she wove lovingly through horns on his head
a charging bull of white immensity
enticing sweet Europa to his bed.
Patroclus tricked the Myrmidons to fight
protected in the guise of hammered steel
but Hector took him from his youthful life
and Paris shot Achilles in the heel.
Quandaries interspersed with heroic deeds
bound by achievement and their true beliefs
questing for glory even gods will bleed
and die in the pages of a thousand griefs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is this the poet who launched a thousand lines? Couldn't resist. With a name like mine, I am an eavesdropper of all things Trojan.... (er, ... in the mythological sense.) ;)