Let us come to terms with each other,
inconceivable as it may seem,
For opulence draws its light from darkness,
bleeding a convalescent moon.
Lest assured that dawn has spoken,
Through frigid lisping branches,
To tell the story of a fair prince that reigns the evening sky.
A child of nobility shunned from civilization,
Lays dormant behind blue doors,
For his Hegelian eyes sway forth, grazing the vast frontier.
Vesting dominion over Hellespont,
Where effluent Bosphorus waters carry on,
Hera Stands affirm,
Beseeching Jason's arm.
As he ferries her cross stream,
Above elliptical surges,
A sandal does he loose,
gifted to this crone.
A goddess for a prow,
foretelling every passage,
Sailing athwart clashing rocks,
Towards Medea's arms.
Anchored at a distance,
Where rabid earth meets raging sea,
Argo's crew awaits at Colchis,
Battered from a hailing storm.
Return my father,
For the Argonauts are here,
Awaiting the Golden Fleece,
Avenge our kingship,
By merry song,
To lead our journeymen home.
A noble steed arose,
To share this tale with thee,
Snarling at death,
With a locking gaze,
Carrying the key to my fathers heart.
So the stars curtsied,
To take a final bow,
Placing the golden amulet,
Around my daughters neck.
Running against the wind,
She found a burning bush,
Flanked by two roses,
That sprung in the undergrowth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem