To Cyrnus

by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from the Greek of Theognis

My wings shall be the ones you use to fly
in passage over boundless sea and earth;
you’ll hear your name adorning many lips —
a wished-for celebrant at banquet mirth
when youths in loveliness shall bid you sound
again your flute’s melodious breath — my wings,
when you plunge darkling underground
into the melancholy house of death,
shall keep your honor bright, unperishing,
fit for undying fame in your name’s breath.
You shall be the only one of your name
to rise above the seas and shores of Greece,
sweeping from isle to isle the rocky main,
needless of horse at last, effortlessly
drawn by Muses in their violet crowns.
Thus men to come, if they still sing (or earth
and sun abide!) shall know and cherish you
because I loved and kept these letters safe.
Yes, these are my wings you fly upon.

But what is left to me, when I give you to all?
Scorned by your beauty, I burn and fall!

—Revised 2003, 2019