Penelope

Sorrow and trouble never end for this miserable queen!
The awaited one does not return
and the years rush by;
my torments have lasted, alas, too long; time is lame for whoever lives in anguish. Misguided hope,
hope no longer green but hoary,
you no longer promise peace
nor healing to my persistent pain.
Two decades have passed
since the unforgettable day when, through an abduction,
the proud Trojan
plunged his illustrious homeland into ruin. Troy burned justly,
for impure love,
which is a crime of fire,
must be purged by fire.
But most unjustly,
while innocent,
I am condemned to suffer
because of others’ misdeeds.
Shrewd, wise Ulysses,
who boasts of punishing adulterers,
you sharpen your weapons and fan the flames to avenge the misdeeds
of a faithless Greek woman,
while you leave your chaste wife
among hostile rivals,
her honour, perhaps her life, at stake. Every departure longingly
awaits a return,
you alone have lost your day of returning.
〰️
Calm returns to the sea,
Zephyr returns to the meadow,
the dawn meanwhile sweetly invites the sun to a return of the day which had departed. The waters return to the earth,
the stones return to the centre,
and with sensual motion
the river returns to the ocean.
Man, who lives down here,
away from his origins,
has a celestial soul and a frail body.
Soon the mortal dies
and the soul returns to heaven
and the body returns to dust
after a brief sojourn;
you alone have lost the day of your return. Return, for while
my grief has no abode
I can see the preordained hour of my death. Return, oh return, Ulysses!

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