By: Pawel Markiewicz
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 new, 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 captain, the former pirate
and three divers with pearls in the hand.
They want to dream and sleep, it is late.
The captain remember 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 think about the ambrosial tears.
She listen to choir of pearls divers.
Naiad begins praying to Artemis
just in the most Apollonian ways.
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