Together, hand in hand, we'll in a flight of fancy Seek the land where angels softly tread. We will fly in a cosy dream to the Vale of Tempe To the garden of a thousand roses white and red! Of old such a place did exist, sung by Pindar, The favourite haunt of god and goddess Wont to cast off their august frown afar For some arcadian frolic in fragrant wilderness! Legend has it many an immortal with mortals Dallied far into the night till rosy-cheeked Dawn Woke the day up and through the western portals Let Phoebus out into the world with a yawn! There perchance, in sunkissed murmuring groves Oft graced by nimble swift-footed Diana Drawn to it by the cooing of white-plumaged doves, We may catch sight of some Olympian floralia! There we'll make new life in our veins flow Slaking our thirst on ambrosia and noney And thus afresh new wild oats we`ll sow In the rose-scented fields of Eros and Aphrodite! In this sacred vale of a thousand delights, Nightingales nightly sing sweet lullabies By the moonlit stream in the night's Haunting call to love's paradise! Together then, we`ll fly to the Vale of Tempe, This new Arcady, the Eden of Greece; There we'll venture into the sanctum of Aphrodite And be shown the rites for the ultimate release! For what is life if there is nothing else but toil? Even the gods, from Apollo to Zeus Are weary of the load, as men are of the soil And forever seek some Leda or Daphne to seduce. We cannot, alas! turn ourselves into swans Or ask the gods to change us into laurels For the sake of love's eternal dance But there is no end to fancy's unbridled marvels! How rich is a dream though it is only a dream And how boundless our flight of fancy! Always seeking the life-giving stream Though bound to the earth and abject servility! Man, forver bound to Promethean rock Yearns to free himself from the eagle of pain: In women he looks in vain for the lock That would guard him from death's chain! Whether it be in a flight of fancy like ours Or by the mysterious power od Dionysus, Being brought to light, oft he courses Through life like a mad mad curse! And so we too, not knowing where we came from Only knowing that life will soon end Seek the Golden Bough, the ultimate freedom, The Holy Grail that holds the blood of Heaven! Beloved Athenians! There is no limit indeed To what we can see and experience In our flight of fancy; no need to read Indigestible rot but only see the True Science! In the Vale of Tempe, under Athena's aegis We will not fear to walk where angels tread And one moment of heavenly bliss Will make us forget the earth that we dread! We will go there in a dream that will not end And the gods willing, as we drink from the fountain Of eternal youth, our eyes will open to the land That we once knew on some high sun-clad mountain! Claudio Wye Toronto, February 1999
