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O Cypris

Shreya Banerjee evokes the beauty and the mystery of a holiday amid ruins of old, and the history which these sites hold.

O Cypris!

I must rank among those who seek your nectar.

You were risen from these very seas to affect her-

            and I too-

your whispers surround me even today.

Perched under the sun,

upon a step of this worn amphitheatre,

a sweet feline at my feet, suddenly lost in the

            mountains:

green, rolling landscape, rolling hills, fixed mosaics.

I climb clockwise,

up a medieval stairway, up to the battlement,

the song of this castle leaves me breathless, baffled and bent

            over the parapets.

Gazing down, gazing out, over the Mediterranean.

Ampitheatre

With each cautious step I take, dust rises off the floor;

my mind lingers on those armour-clad types who walked here long before.

In my absent musings, I realise we do not rhyme-

but some intrinsic, crucial bit remains unchanged through time.

Among these muted smiling remains I dutifully ponder,

what is it that lies ruined? I’m inspired by my wonder –

O Cypris!

The love in your lap makes worthwhile the thunder.

Image Credits to the author.

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