The Longing

The Pindaric ode

You – such a dreamery born from Dionysian odes

like tender day in Your winds – enchanted butterflies

as the Golden Fleece – bewitched in my meek fantasy

august paradise lost is thus found and so dreamy

You lotus-like butterfly you – above volcanos

with wing-bewitchment immortalized in the times

I want to be such you and eternal thankful eyes

a plethora of feelings shines in tender myths lands

I would be magnificent and gorgeous like some ghosts

I will daydream over the soft foggy mournful morns

I long for tenderness of a mayhap dreamy dew

amaranthine but golden muse told me: Let’s go!

dearest butterfly Your blood is like an ambrosia

Your soul seems to be a pretty light eudemonia

Your tender garden is at morning star so moony

Your thoughts are dazzling moonglow awoken from fantasy

I yearn in winter for eternal Horace’s feelings

created born in springtide from the Ovidian songs

I am going to go to Pythia – temple in summer

a naiad becomes for Artemis’ sake muse in fall 

The Hymn To Dreamed Dawn

You are such Apollo in eternal bliss, so dreamful.

Your twilight under celestial moon is the hereafter.

 

You are an embracing of the rainbow, drawn by the bard.

Your amaranthine, tender whisper belongs to the lord.

 

You fly into the moony dreamery full of fancy.

Your august, cute, dazzling paradise is like poetry.

 

You seem to be gentle such a zeus-like dew at tender morns.

Your ontology is a plethora of Morningstars.

 

You was read such booklet with softly written mysteries.

Your amazing, dawn-like wings – drunken of the bewitchment.

You stay as stones of sempiternity of meek feelings.

Your beauty is not torn such an enchanted Golden Fleece.

 

You are Apollo’s greenery in temple of light naiads.

Your way into fullness is the treasure of some dryads.

You are mythos, born from the purest eschatology.

Your songs of lotus are traces of epistemology.

You daydreamt about the eudemonia of starry gods.

Your ephemeral ballads are thoughts of dew and  goddess.

You are throne in temple, it is like the crucial dusk – moonlit.

Your sunglow and great moonshine have mayhap gold of the tears.