Artemis
The Goddess looks immensely sad, despite all her glory;
sad and often ill-tempered Callisto seemed — what is she
missing? her many temples over the lands shine, in harbors,
forests and in the cities; for her wreaths Hippolytus gathers
flowers from fields where animals don’t graze, where only
the buzz of holy bees is heard; newlyweds offer her their
exquisite belts and the braids of their hair. Poets tirelessly
compose the most elegant words for her name.
Why then
this sad face and anger and the unjustified punishments
of Aloadae, of Actaeon, Orion, Bufagos and the ill-fated
Niobe?
Perhaps Adonis would have something to say about it
if he hadn’t succumbed to the wounds the wild boar inflicted
on him, and perhaps the sixty nymphs who bathed in the river
with her might know something or they heard what Potnia of
Theron whispered in her sleep during the summer nights, as
she lay down, supine, alone in her bed; and her spread knees
out of the bed-sheets gleam like lilies under the moonlight.
Libros Libertad 