Ionic Poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Ionic
That we've broken their statues,
that we've driven them out of their temples,
doesn't mean at all that the gods are dead.
O land of Ionia, they're still in love with you,
their souls still keep your memory.
When an August dawn wakes over you,
your atmosphere is potent with their life,
and sometimes a young ethereal figure
indistinct, in rapid flight,
wings across your hills.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 8:26:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I enjoyed ionic poem