Song of the Sirens

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  • Опубликовано: 8 сен 2024
  • In wrathful seas where furious old Poseidon roars,
    Odysseus hoists sails, laden his heart with sores.
    By the Ocean Ruler's anger, his soul remains oppressed,
    Evincing men are naught without the gods' behest.
    Lasting through trials vast, traversing oceans wide,
    For many troubled years, Odysseus and his men abide.
    They behold the Sirens' isle, a treacherous, horrid place,
    Their haunting song's a lure, yet luscious, full of grace.
    "Come hither, famed Odysseus, near your swift vessel steer,
    Your burdened soul shall lighten, our voices sweet to hear."
    Their words cloying like honey, their voices soft and fair,
    Never before heard he such songs, gorgeous beyond compare.
    Their beauty strange, ethereal, their song magically sweet,
    Odysseus squirms and struggles, yearns an ill fate to meet.
    Tightly fastened to the mast, in vain his bound body strains,
    His will subdued, his mind ensnared, transfixed by their refrains.
    "Loose me!" he howls, his cries in vain,
    With beeswax his comrades' ears sustain.
    Deaf to the Sirens' charm, their deadly art,
    That tugs at every sailor's bewitched heart.
    The waves are still, the winds at rest,
    Odysseus in torment, yet he's blessed.
    Powerless to heed their incessant plea,
    Yet their song's allure he cannot flee.
    His men row on, their leader bound,
    The Sirens' song a haunting sound.
    Their island fades, the spell is broken,
    The entranced Odysseus is finally woken.
    Through all his dreadful woes, his relentless strife,
    The Sirens' hypnotic call, that once stirred his life,
    Still in his mind will echo, resounding evermore,
    Its eldritch, eerie beauty, lost on a distant shore.

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