Introduction to the myth
The myth has happened in darkness of forest,
near the old druidic altar with the stone.
It was foggy then, shrouded in last summer.
Here a fawn was born at dawn and morn – no woe!
Near the spring that belonged to the moony grove,
naiad Arethusa is sitting on grass.
Artemis – the soft goddess without trouble.
It is the dreamy time for the Blue Hours.
The Utopian time is coming with charm.
The naiad is musing about nightingales.
They were known and famous in the whole land.
Their song – for the sake of dazzling paradise.
Arethusa was not a mortal being.
Artemis is resting now, only dreaming.
Arethusa and Alpheus I
In the grove where the druid’s fire sparkled at last evening,
the Naiad dreams of the righteous, dear, beauteous time.
The glade should be cleaned up after the amazing meeting
of the Olympic gods and goddesses last pretty night.
The logic of Arethusa dreams of deductive wings.
At the edge of forest the God Alpheus is waiting
for the Naiad and apollonianly propitious mind.
Having stroked the forest-like fawn, she is to him – coming.
He has hunted for wildcats at midnight with fancy – here.
The love for her is such fabulous, gorgeous musing
about the ontologically perfect Golden Fleece.
The love is lost delight and only stardust of feelings.
She should become his amaranthine wife – the virgin.
for life in depths of unending artemislike timbers!
Arethusa and Alpheus II
If dear Arethusa miswedded,
she would sully tender crystal soul.
She is going home quickly – away,
dreaming of scintilla of the morns.
Don’t pick musing flowers of my hope!
Leave me alone and my wizardries!
Moony paradise seems to be lost.
The naiad escapes soon from the forest.
On ship towards Ortygia-island,
she meets the captain, former pirate
and three divers with pearls in their hands.
They want to dream and sleep, it is late.
The captain remembers the midnight storm.
Naiad’s homeland becomes indeed lost.
At the sea II
She must find motherland in exile.
Legendary seagulls are flying.
The country of sailors is the sea.
The waves of Poseidon are dreaming.
She can praise the morns – the charming dawns,
full of celestial spirits of spell.
The dreameries rest in new homeland,
which shimmers over the meek vessel.
Despite this Artemis´ forest lives,
where stags and does dance, muse forever.
She thinks about the ambrosial tears.
She listens to choir of pearl divers.
Naiad begins praying to Artemis
just in the most Apollonian ways.
The prayer senso stricto
Owl from the grove listens to prayer.
The most propitious and gorgeous words.
Let moony star-like memories fly!
Goddess sleeps in alluring forest!
Your roe is so appealing and grand!
Your hedgehog is handsome, good-looking!
Your bear is so cute and delicate!
Your squirrel is so fascinating!
Enrapture the beauteous diamond!
Beguile the splendid – classy agate!
Enthrall the angelic emerald!
Allure the bright – divine sapphire!
The wings of birds need to enchant world.
Star of philosophers – next to owl.
Arethusa embellishes a dawn,
bewitches the fantasy of the moon
with ravishing, resplendent stars,
becomes bucolic dreams of the gods.
She is such a good, cute Eden.
or an apollonian Arcadia
land that was eternally Promised,
as the mirth of Eudemonia.
Be charm fulfilled such epiphany!
It is from an ontology – child.
I wish you were from eternity.
She would be the perpetual stream.
Sempiternity is immortal.
Her stream-becoming is eternal.
At the oracle
God Alpheus was at the Pythia.
He needed a plethora of feelings.
She looked at the ancient amphora.
Eudemonia would be clear in dreams.
The oracle wanted to help them yet
Pythia, having drunk, told the pure truth.
She told: The Naiad was on the isle.
She is spring – such a heaven, so blue.
Pythia wrote for Apollo poetry
about dreamiest mysterious from wind,
as well as of stolen Golden Fleece
about apollonianly soft mirth.
Long live an eternal oracle!
May poems be the most delicate!
The poem is an obol.
The nightingale is singing.
The naiad needs from live more.
The lover is new dreaming.
Styx – river of destiny.
The God would be the river,
through the dreamed eternity.
They become philosophers.
I love the stoic sparklets
of Arethusa – naiad,
and of the brave Alpheus,
so beautiful is the time.
I want to finish sonnets,
in dreams of the Grecian myths.
Paweł Markiewicz was born 1983 in Siemiatycze in Poland. He is poet who lives in Bielsk Podlaski and writes tender poems, haiku as well as long poems. Paweł has published his poetries in many magazines. He writes in English and German.
You can find more of Paweł’s work here on Ink Pantry.