The Bag Of Aeolus - Poem by dimitrios galanis
Their land and its smokes they had seen just
and Sleep suave the eyes of Ulysses wrapped.
Alone in the rudder
to reach it the possible soon,
exausted, he left them his victims fall.
In a short while they would catch patria's port.
Two years, sailing in trouble,
in Kikones, Cyclops, Lotofagues,
ten previous, fighting in Troy stubbornly hard
and finally here they are, to Ithaca back,
the hands woe gaps
with the precious beautifull great trojan loot
and that here the oxhide bag, the gift of Aeolus,
apparently full of silver and gold.
Τhereat sturdily tightened has it silver-cordon!
Have they not run the same routes he run?
Quickly, to see at least, before he wakes up,
how much his silver and how much his gold are.
And that, that was it...
Unleashed windstorms, hurricanes
swept curiosities, jealousies up,
took them from their motherisland away far
where perilous trivial hybris' arrogance
plunged them in between outopical lands.
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