The longing. The Pindaric ode

You – such a dreamery born from Dionysian odes
like tender day in Your winds – enchanted butterflies
as the Golden Fleece – bewitched in my meek fantasy
august paradise lost is thus found and so dreamy
You lotus-like butterfly you – above volcanos
with wing-bewitchment immortalized in the times
I want to be such you and eternal thankful eyes
a plethora of feelings shines in tender myths lands

I would be magnificent and gorgeous like some ghosts
I will daydream over the soft foggy mournful morns
I long for tenderness of a mayhap dreamy dew
amaranthine but golden muse told me: Let’s go!
dearest butterfly Your blood is like an ambrosia
Your soul seems to be a pretty light eudemonia
Your tender garden is at morning star so moony
Your thoughts are dazzling moonglow awoken from fantasy

I yearn in winter for eternal Horace’s feelings
created born in springtide from the Ovidian songs
I am going to go to Pythia – temple in summer
a naiad becomes for Artemis’ sake muse in fall

The Elegy to Orpheus

Your lute became supernaturally amaranthine.
Its melody belonged to marvel of realm full muses.
The tender Gods love you – Orpheus and your musing charm.
And your homeland – worshipped each your dreamy song and ballads.

Soft birds and dazzling animals – they overwatched at morns,
with each magnificent, amusing and marvellous gig.
Thus. Your amazing-dreamed eagles loved too – the singing
– envoys of the weal from edenic Olympic mountains.

The venom of viper had in itself somewhat pearly.
It was such tear of Orpheus – overwhelmingly clean.
Eurydice – the queen of muses on foggy days died.
She – in eternal habitat-wizardry of Hades.

You have desired to retrieve her – the immortal being
and to bring unto earth full of moony spell and the pearls.
Hades and Hermes were enchanted from your dreameries.
Eurydice adored in odes, in homeland of shadow.

You perished simply rent like the gentle stolen Golden Fleece,
by angry, mythological creatures – troublemakers.
On seat of death originated wonderful oracle.
Its meaning was very juridic as well as dreaming.

If Eurydice thought in eternity about you,
the lea of Thrace would come into leaf so picturesquely.
The meek, lovely, small fawn says – the world I love you too.
A butterfly carries repose of Gods amazingly.

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.