Canto II

Canto II

Adrift on the wash
Góntia conversing with Lir
Quieter in the distance.
Half alive on the hull fragment
The Νάρκισσος in Lir's hands now,
Her crew forgotten;
         Though I search for her still.
Πλάτων to my side,
Naivety has mislead us.

The blue haired girl speaks to me,
         Τιώς σε λένε;
Treading so softly.

                                                 Absorbed...
I did not hear,
Nor did I comprehend this tongue
Should Πλάτων awake,
From is uncertain condition,
He would tell me.
Αθηνα and Ερμης have blessed him.
She was lost to Lir,
Though we shall find her.
She treads so softly,
Propelling us, rhythmically
Across the water.
Towards l'horizon;
         Ηλιος rises to greet us
Home, glorious Ελλάς, closer,
Welcoming as time passes.
The childlike Nereid smiles
Fin oscillating below the wash,
the mist trailing behind.
         She could have been her.
Dynamene stops,
Gently treading upright, a strand
Of wet blue hair falls to cover
The bluest of eyes;
         Lovely blue irises in a field of snow
Pushing away, expressionless
                   ...Diving...
         Blue mist rising,
                             ...Silver flash...
                             ...Red light ripple...
                                       ...Diminishing, falling...
         ...Brown eye, reflection on ripples...
                   ...Fixation...
She had met her limit;
         Αιγαίον Πέλαγος

The sun pours down and scatters
Over ripples in the water, across our faces.
Drifting...
         The flash of Nereids...

Les etudients errants,
         Flotant...
Dans un mer plus familier
On a fragment of a vessel
That lead them to their dreams.

         Afloat...
Cheating Ατροπος;
         Atropos was their fate,
         For why should it have been any other way
         For men pursuing the splendours of Morpheus.

Πλάτων rests, buckle gleaming,
Fastened...The pride of Aeolus
         It was that of a drowning crewman
Odysseus had prized it, it's use;
                   ...?...;
         Homer still was scrawling
         As I whisked away...
Refined brown leather;
         Aromatic, the finest of incenses.
Golden tassels, delicately tied.
Πλάτων his buckle glistening.

Fingers drawn so lightly,
On this golden chord.
                   ...There is nothing...
                             ...Ηλιος, gracefully steps aside...
                             ...Nyx settles in...
         The ripples, raging...
                   The Aegean roaring...

Typhus, you daemon...