Put up your bright sword Achilleus,
For the dew will rust it.
Handsome though you are,
You are no more so than Hector.
Both of your precious bloods,
Milked on the same breast of care,
But dead, oh invaluable sons,
How mother’s eyes shall tear the ground!
If hatred swallows your hearts,
Death shall dog your heels,
Until over your pride you trip,
Or under the chariot wheels,
As the beating wings of Fate
Blow the breath from your face.
Sit beneath the shady walls of Troy,
In the green scent of Spring,
And speak of three – headed Helen’s
Beauty, Riches and Fame-
It is all you may know of them.
Noble Priam, mighty Agamemnon,
Would have your youths for this prize,
The youth that is yours but once.
Young men, eager to test the world
With your supple bodies, young minds,
Put them to each other’s tests-
Only lay no ephemeral life
In the balance of bone or dice-
The dark brother of Poseidon,
Will gleefully accept your losses
And no more will time be for dancing
Or chasing maidens by the waters...
Squeeze the bile from your tongues,
Fill up your cups with laughter
And drink down to the dregs of Love!
Fragile is life and too often ugly-
But can you not see,
Through this creed, outworn and pagan?
You are teeth of the same Dragon!
Valentine Petraki- Anastassiou
Nicosia, July 1974
This is a translation of my poem "Πέρα Από τα Τείχη της Τροίας" from Greek to English by John Shone,
Montreal 1988
