Wednesday, December 27, 2017

An Aoide to the Swan who keeps me Awake *

Know I not from which land of dreams
Thou hath once arrived at my door as it seemed,
But heard the soft murmur of leaves
Quite true like they are left bestirred by breeze,
And thought I, like a child, perhaps You have arrived,
The day has been just another day
Of wintry sun mellowed yet bright
Turning everyone joyous and gay,
Heard thy footsteps on the stair
( have you carried thy lyre?)
Know that I not,  but thy love me so wrought
That  I just keep on papers my pen
And words come out of heart
After being so long locked and  pent,
I think of thee, someone just like a deity,
Residing faraway from me,
Perhaps in the homeland of Hesiod
Where dwelt the gifted Nine,
And for whom all poets and writers pined,
Perhaps thou art that form of One
A white white floating Swan,
Having all the grace of Three
For Erato, Calliope , Euterpe,
All in You how I  imagine to see,
And Polyhymnia too,
Just like a scared hymn
Somewhere upon thy dress I view
As it flutters in the wintry northern breeze,
O how You light up a song in me, without cease!
(* note:
Aoide : meaning song , as per Varro, poetry can arise out of mind because of three muses 1) Melete 2) Mneme 3) Aoide.
Erato : Greek muse of Love poetry
Calliope: Muse of Epic poetry
Euterpe: Muse of lyric poetry
Polyhymnia: Muse of Sacred poetry
Swan : symbolic of knowledge.
The picture attached for illustrative purpose is of The Nine Muses on a Roman sacrophagus, 2nd Century A.D. as preserved at Louvre, )

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