Friday, September 12, 2008

Who still are you, o Aphrodite?

O Aphrodite, once you were known
as beauty, as romance, as sweetness;
names of rudiment that one engraves to one’s bone.
Remembering even your breeze that stifles the darkness of solidity
and everlastingly warming spheres yet never worn.

O Aphrodite, since when did the moon forget to bloom?
Was that also when you lost your smile?
Just as the lost moon brought hope into the darkest room,
Your vanished smile dreads cheerful love to foul.

Nay the breeze still stifles;
Solidity creeps onto dominion,
As ever again loneliness persistently baffles,
As ever again I recognize your fading complexion.

Who still are you, o Aphrodite?
Beg you to reveal yourself that my soul ever delight,
Begging and begging by day-to-day and night-to-night
Only silence was heard and darkness in sight,
A limping question as ever this soul recites:
Who still are you, o Aphrodite?
Who still are you?

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