Two sisters separated soon after birth <br />one dark-haired, one fair, both beautiful, with shining eyes <br />run towards each other, eagerly, yet shyly, wonderingly, <br />from the two ends of a bridge <br />high over the water that joins and separates – run to meet: <br /> <br />Constantinopolis, Byzantium; <br />a city never here and always there, <br />a city made of images in the mind and heart <br />its jewelled, aqueous, shifting light <br />promising and hiding <br />like a jewelled dancer swirling, whom our senses yield to <br />but may not touch <br /> <br />provoking us with mystery, clouded fables, <br />many interpretations as to her history <br />to which we bring our own uncertainties; <br />choose what we can, but, transfixed, gaze upon her seduction <br />and marvel at her, <br />glowing invisibly with an imperceivable unity, <br />a knowing of a history of bloodshed, odious intrigues, <br />with a dazzling sense of the divine, of holy wisdom, <br />defying us to judge her, by her charms; <br /> <br />like an oracle, <br />speaking with her silence; <br />like an ikon, <br />gazing at your soul; <br />if you lack perception <br />her smile will seem like sorrow; <br /> <br />she asks nothing of you, yet <br />waits to greet you as graciously <br />as a goddess; as a queen. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />From the Cypriot Greek of Vera Korfioti<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0199-constantinople/
