[This poem (obviously removed a bit from Euripides' tragedy) caught me by surprise. It arrived seemingly out of nowhere, and stared back at me like some kind of magic mirror. I've been looking at my reflection in it all day. Joy Warriors take special note.]
The Bacchae Chorus (excerpt)
by Euripides
When shall I dance once more
with bare feet the all-night dances,
tossing my head for joy
in the damp air, in the dew,
as a running fawn might frisk
for the green joy of the wide fields,
free from fear of the hunt,
free from the circling beaters
and the nets of woven mesh
and the hunters hallooing on
their yelping packs? And then, hard pressed,
she sprints with the quickness of wind,
bounding over the marsh, leaping
to frisk, leaping for joy,
gay with the green of the leaves,
to dance for joy in the forest,
to dance where the darkness is deepest, where no
man is.
by Euripides
When shall I dance once more
with bare feet the all-night dances,
tossing my head for joy
in the damp air, in the dew,
as a running fawn might frisk
for the green joy of the wide fields,
free from fear of the hunt,
free from the circling beaters
and the nets of woven mesh
and the hunters hallooing on
their yelping packs? And then, hard pressed,
she sprints with the quickness of wind,
bounding over the marsh, leaping
to frisk, leaping for joy,
gay with the green of the leaves,
to dance for joy in the forest,
to dance where the darkness is deepest, where no
man is.
*sigh* when, indeed?
ReplyDeletenote-taken.
thank you, dear one. xo
oh wow! I can feel my pulse quicken, my nose twitching, feet shuffling in place ...
ReplyDeleteand how did you know I keep Women Who Run by my bedside always? :)
I am feeling a bit coyotish these days ...
xo Lis
ooooh, yes. and yes. and yes again.
ReplyDeletejoy.
there is a movement a foot. a frisky one at that.
grin.