Not Cutting The My Own Hand. Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

I solved the riddle of the sphinx.
It was a titanic job. As ever,
on helped Terezjasz for me go.
He came in dreams, he talked
about the future and interpreted
chirping speaking a from birds.
I overcame the dislike.

Suddenly draconian measures
became unimportant. A desire
for revenge disappeared irretrievably
to the thought, that pyrrhic victory,
won't provide satisfaction.
Blind Terezjasz taught to watch me
this way, in order to sometimes,

in order to sometimes, even,
not seeing - see, which place
I must cut the Gordian knot,
that not cutting in my hand.
I am selecting appropriate glasses
of eco-friendly material. I will be
painting, the Almatei horn, now.

It will be for everyone...