You know the place: then
Leave Crete and come to us
waiting where the grove is
pleasantest, by precincts
sacred to you; incense
smokes on the altar, cold
streams murmur through the
apple branches, a young
rose thicket shades the ground
and quivering leaves pour
down deep sleep; in meadows
where horses have grown sleek
among spring flowers, dill
scents the air. Queen! Cyprian!
Fill our gold cups with love
stirred into clear nectar
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"Fill our gold cups with love
stirred into clear nectar"
What a beautiful image! -
9/10
This is a good imaged piece. Great visuals. I also like the form and the no break lines, I mean, there are breaks but I am refering too the gentle sway of the sentence to the next.
A lovely piece here.
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