by Brett Rutherford
Adapted from Meleager, The Greek Anthology, xii, 128The night is too short.
Pipes pastoral,
be silent!
Let Daphnis stay
in mountain
hideaway,
asleep on a hill-top.
Summon him not
at the call of Pan,
that goat-molester.
Lyre of Apollo,
be silent!
Long dead and gone
is Hyacinthus,
fallen his laurel
crown, fled
the zealous wind
who felled him.
Let Daphnis
and his kin delight
the ever-watchful
nymphs at hand.
Keep Hyacinthus
a fond memory
in Phoebus's eye.
Give this summer night
over to human lovers.
Stir not young men
to supernatural yearnings.
My Dionysus -- no,
not the god! --
let this poor Dion wield
love's commanding staff.
The night is too short.
Grant us the space
to woo and win
with poems, wine
and mortal vows.
Grant us one
unassisted kiss
in midsummer silence.
