A POEM SIX THOUSAND YEARS OLD
When Attis, in guise of maiden fair, did sing
Unto her comrades, lo, the thiasus stirred!
A cacophony of voices quivering,
The delicate tambourine, it did swell
With resonance, and hollow cymbals rang
With metallic clangor, whilst the nimble choir
Did hasten to fair Ida's verdant slopes
On fleetest foot. Concurrently, Attis,
In frenzy, gasping, led them onward, drumming
Through shaded groves, as wild heifer seeks
To flee the weighty yoke. The swift Gallae
Did follow in her wake, their footsteps swift.
And when, exhausted, Cybele's abode
They reached, wearied from their toil, they fell
To sleep, deprived of sustenance. Languid
Slumber veiled their eyes with drowsy waves;
The savage tumult of the soul gave way
To gentle rest.
:: 4000 BCE ::
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