In Thrace, a tradition of three original Muses persisted. Some ancient authorities regarded the Muses as of Thracian origin. The earliest known records of the Muses come from Boeotia (Boeotian muses). Apollo and the Muses on Mount Parnassus, c. May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly. I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly! Our cat bit off your unlucky head my offended heart still balks! Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night: Still, the groves of Marathon may murmur of his valorĪnd the black-haired Mede, with his mournful clarion. Now Ossa’s dust seems all the more woeful, where they now sleep. Though they were steadfast among spears, dark Fate destroyed themĪs they defended their native land, rich in sheep Placed him newly-wedded in an unmarked grave,īeneath the earth, let’s have lots more fun: Lie here in the hollow of a great affliction, I, Homenea, the chattering bright sparrow, This is the grave of Nicander’s lost children. Here Saon, son of Dicon, now rests in holy sleep:Įxterminated the sacred offspring of Lysidice. Why did you ****** me away, in my infancy, Pity the world that bore him, then foolishly survived. Pity his monument, overlooking this hillside. Pity this boy who was beautiful, but died. Nor seen a bridal gown slip to the floor,īut little also―(I was glad not to know)― Only eighteen years old, so brief was my day. My life cut short at the height of life’s play: His white bones lie bleaching on some inhospitable shore:Ī son lost to his father, his tomb empty the poor. Where does he lie―whether heaven, or hell? I lived as best I could, and then I died.īe careful where you step: the grave is wide. Stripped of her stripling, if asked, she’d confess: I am loyal to you master, even in the grave: Here I lie dead and sea-enclosed Cyzicus shrouds my bones.įaretheewell, O my adoptive land that reared and nurtured me Please tell my dear father that I gave up the ghost What difference to me―where I rest my head? Nor did the maelstrom of death obscure their story.īut may Fortune grant you all the prosperityĮverywhere the sea is the sea, the dead are the dead. These men earned a crown of imperishable glory, Only the sea gulls in their high, lonely circuits may tell.īlame not the gale, nor the inhospitable sea-gulf, nor friends’ tardiness, Now sleep peacefully here on the mid-plains of Ecbatan: We who left behind the Aegean’s bellowings Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be,īut go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea. īy Anacreon or the Anacreontea, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Here he lies in state tonight: great is his Monument!īut first yank the bloodstained strings out!Īs he thinks of the lads he left behind. Yet Ares cares not, neither does War relent.īy Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. How valiant he lies tonight: great is his Monument! Keywords/Tags: Poet, poetic vision, sight, seeing, swimmer, underwater, breath, bubbles, blur, blurry, blurred, blurring, obscure, obscured, obscuring Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, Bewildering Stories, Neovictorian/Cochlea Sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles. Walking away I sat dejected but not rejected because as she With a sparkle in her eye her painted lips slid across her teeth, Her chestnut hair fell in damp tendrils across her forehead.Įxtending my hand with a napkin on the end I said, “ I would love if you joined I could smell spice and ginger of a perfume I knew so well. My heart tapped out a cadence as I strode My knees cracked, testifying to the years I stood on them. I decided to ask what brought her in from the Somewhere between Bird’s schizophrenic riffs
Her dark mascara limped away from her crystal blue eyesĪs she waited for the barrister to turn his head. Sipping espresso, double affogato of course, topped with cream andĬhatting with Miles, I saw Calliope sauntered in from the rain.
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