blank verse on ancient times

on ancient times

The world that exists no longer, that attracts so much,

the world of Hellas, the eternal, ideal world of heroes and gods,

the amber orb I look at with envy.

The world is extinguished, it will be never again.

Let it be.

Immersed into the roaring world of the formation of Olympeion,

I close my eyes and see how somewhere in the ideal world,

the amber orb rolls down a marble staircase.

A priest smitten with a poisonous arrow drops the orb out of his hands

and falls down on the glossy marble floor.

His scarlet blood pours over the floor,

his lips turn pale, his eye grows dim.

One more illusion is dispersed; one more daydream is broken,

and only the amber orb is rolling down the marble staircase,

in our, not ideal world now.                            

Who will catch it? Who will restore the lost perfection?

Silence.

The amber orb is smashed to pieces glittering on the floor.

 

February, 2006

Reviews

[Joiedevivre]

As a greek and not only, I appreciate this poem to my depths.