Apollo Basin
Sun-God Apollo and His Muses
Mind flies in a lake of nothingness aglow in the inner radiance
Flapping the wings outstretched, where the sun is glowing in the rays scattered by the dust ,
In the water within, in the lake, where in melancholy the light mirrors the sky infinitely vast,
Where the feathers of the birds touch the depth of the heart as awakened mind’s dazzling darts,
Bathing in a lake of light singing the eternal hymns of beauty and love,
The great swan lifts its wings from the earth.
While the eyes fly over the forest drowsy in love,
Were the Maenads tear Orpheus with blood thirsty lust,
In a great lake of nothingness the sky dips its lips in thirst,
When singing mysterious songs the swans fly arching in marvellous curves,
The words of the poets and the notes of the musicians fly as the words and the notes of the unearthly birds,
In a lake , where sunbeam shines,
On a glowing canvas filled with invisible lines,
The artists’ colours limited in space and time,
Flapping the wings bring the inspiration from a golden brine.
O Apollonian swans! bringing light from the inner sun !
The creator of beauty and art !
The deepest sounds in which your singing soars,
The unbound joy in which the sun rows beside your wings with its golden oars,
Bring in the awakened mind ever joy !
Seeing your majestic flights towards a height where the sun is hurled as Apollo's sun-disc toy,
In the weightless mind’s melodious bouy
Poets sing in praise of the Delos' golden boy.
O Apollo!
I see your swans fly by Parnassus towards a lake that is deep blue and vast,
Where the poets, the musicians and the artists drink before creating immortal poetry , music and art.
While the swans take a golden turn around the sun,
All feelings incinerate in the senses’ burn:
Between earth and air,
Where the mind sees the mystics and the seers,
The journey-man listens to the sounds,
That come from a world beyond the body's physical bounds.
Here being amazed I watch the wandering of the jorneyman sailing from shore to shore,
From Delos I see him arriving in Apollo's grove.
While the nymphs play tunes in their Delphic harp,
I see him listening to Calliope reciting the epic verse.
As the melodious Erato sings about the Apollinian beauty and love,
And West wind blows the flute in the heart,
In a solitary sorrow Melpomene stands with mask,
In melancholy flowers spring from the beautiful Hycantheus' blood,
While blood drips from the hands of the Muse of tragedy,
Wearing a melancholy the journeyman listens to the story of love and beauty.
Playing the Dorian flute while Euterpe creates different colours and hues,
All shepherds' hearts feel the morning light’s unearthly dews,
Where poesy and songs meet the world where flowers are abundantly strewn,
Where the feelings of joy pass by in quietness over the green meadows and the dunes,
In loneliness the journeyman seeks beauty and love in his heart’s pastoral tunes.
When words and melodies create the beauty that exists outside flesh and bone,
Where Polyhemnia leaning alone on a wall of stones,
In the soaring thoughts escape the bounds of space and time,
And musingly lift man to the sky where beauty and love are eternal and sublime,
The journeyman listens to her hymns , as if, it is an act of the Divine.
Plucking the harps , the lyre and the cythara made of ethereal strings,
From the Helicon spring,
While the swans fly carrying vibrations in their wings,
And awaken the earth with a voice whose mystery no mortal can probe,
Stoop in the eddying river, wriggling between Mount Ossa and Mount Olympia,
The journey-man hears Apollo playing lyre in Daphne's grove.
Return to the Realm of Orpheus