The Body of Eurydice

Where is she,
The absent one
Whose death
Is my birth?
Orpheus at the prow
Sings the cosmogonic hymn
As the Argo lurches out;
A green-gilled sailor,
Hugging his lyre.
Here stands the pure man,
The father of culture,
Offering sacrifice
And salvation,
Guarding the teletae.
To hell with woman,
Mother of suffering,
Lactating the black milk of seasons!
Philosophers, kind death is pleased to teach you what it can,
And be the heavy ballast to your ships.
Who loses and what is lost?
This trance lasts forever
On the mountainside at night,
And the black dog’s mouth
Howls globes of silence.
Pray, do not drink the waters
Of Lethe; nor forget
The light you witnessed in the dark.
Somewhere a woman, invisible,inaudible,
Rules the secret hours and the land
Across the river, the current and the end.