ancient wars suffer our fate
never told well, never told true
oh love, where has truth gone?
like memory, and justice

long lost in dreams
no longer dreamed by me
known deeply to you

perhaps only you
wishing it were both
of us together once more

ancient wars suffer
a fate like lovers
the past will never
be quite known

a mystery cult of time
long gone, a mystery cult
of two, only two

love: a mystery cult
of me & you

"Mystery Cult of Two" by Medusa  (in translation)

<this is Modern Greek, transliterated so that I can study, but it is my own original poem>


oi archaíoi pólemoi ypoféroun apó ti moíra mas
poté den eípa kalá, poté den eípa alítheia
O, i agápi mou, poú échei páei i alítheia?
ópos ti mními kai ti dikaiosýni

pou chánetai sta óneira
den oneirevómoun pléon apó ména
gnostó vathiá se sas

móno eseís, epithymóntas kai oi dýo
mazí mas gia álli mia forá

oi archaíoi pólemoi ypoféroun
mia moíra san erastés
to parelthón den tha gínei poté
na eínai arketá gností

mia mystiriódi latreía tou chrónou
makriá, mia latreía mystiríou
dýo, móno dýo

agápi: mia latreía mystiríou
tou eaftoú mou

there are questions in your eyes
a trail of smoke leaks out
of the lips that called my name
when the air wasn't so cold
when flowers grew in concrete
when the water was rich; i miss
those words that fell out
like jewel drops but never rich.

(the cheapening of love is
what drew me away; come back
to me, let's build wealth again)

how could you forget who i am
did the smoke trail smudge
the zeroes and ones in your brain
did you forget the fresh air
and how the taste of laughter
against my teeth helped to fade
our fear of saying goodbye?

When you stepped in my door,
I realised I was Paradise
in my heart and soul.
You were so surefooted
because you came up from the high.
So long I longed for it.
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

The time was so sweet,
beyond anyone’s dream
only in pure beauty
I was rendering,
screaming to new highs.
I did it my way!
Lovely bouncing on
my polished pitch,
the rivers forget to flow
back to the seas.
But no one knew
where my toe melts!
Until you did
and took me for a tread
closer to your spring,
my sweet spot;
my sweet dream:
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

Your so pleased man wished
to rain down with love,
but humble you hid your feet!
You blinded the moon, snowed it
away under the seven seas.
No wonder it's
your winning footing.
Like the Prophet (PBUH) said:
I found me the heaven
beneath the mother’s feet.
O Fathima, only on your feet!