A bubbling stream, gleam giving And flashing bright from burnished fields Of gold. There’s silvery froth and fishes shaped From bronze. Lazy cattle Graze on gilding, grasses waving in the Wind. Some have wandered off, in vain, In search for mates. She drains the happy cup Brimming, draught, delight That ripened by the banks And swelled the oaken caskets. She bursts full yet fading, tenderly saying: “My love, no past regrets or present fears And looks we’ll use and wear with years Can tarnish this, our wedding day!” The dance spins slow and neither hears. Her smile’s met by his As the dance spins still and stops. A poised and perfect cast, And all so bright! Smiles And stars and streams. __________________________________ Across the way, by rougher waters, Are the endless shouts and slaughters Of screaming sons and wailing daughters. Faces lined and grey and dreary, Grieving mothers tired and weary, Sleepless eyes bloodshot and bleary. Here the siege is never ceasing, Smelting, grinding, sharpening, seizing Bronze which feeds on molten bleeding. Here’s a mount to charge and race with, A sharpened sword to cleave a face with, Shining armour to cheat your Fate with. There’s a cloak to learn to lie on, To smooth the earth he’s doomed to die on, A soldier’s cloth to weep and cry on.
Original Text: Iliad Book 18, lines 490-496, 509-10, 514-16
ἐν δὲ δύω ποίησε πόλεις μερόπων ἀνθρώπων
καλάς. ἐν τῇ μέν ῥα γάμοι τ᾽ ἔσαν εἰλαπίναι τε,
νύμφας δ᾽ ἐκ θαλάμων δαΐδων ὕπο λαμπομενάων
ἠγίνεον ἀνὰ ἄστυ, πολὺς δ᾽ ὑμέναιος ὀρώρει:
κοῦροι δ᾽ ὀρχηστῆρες ἐδίνεον, ἐν δ᾽ ἄρα τοῖσιν
αὐλοὶ φόρμιγγές τε βοὴν ἔχον: αἳ δὲ γυναῖκες
ἱστάμεναι θαύμαζον ἐπὶ προθύροισιν ἑκάστη.
…
τὴν δ᾽ ἑτέρην πόλιν ἀμφὶ δύω στρατοὶ ἥατο λαῶν
τεύχεσι λαμπόμενοι
…
τεῖχος μέν ῥ᾽ ἄλοχοί τε φίλαι καὶ νήπια τέκνα
ῥύατ᾽ ἐφεσταότες, μετὰ δ᾽ ἀνέρες οὓς ἔχε γῆρας:
οἳ δ᾽ ἴσαν.