Of Love

Tell me, O Plato, what I should conceive of this,

Bidden as I was to a fluttering feeling ( flattering, perhaps?) that I once felt

Which enslaved, rather than ennobled,

How would I have been lost in the beauty of love

( In the same way as you, while with Aristodemus)?

How, in this encomium of love,

Unlike Orpheus ( bidden to cross Hades alive),

Will I be ready to die for love?

Or like virtuous Alcestis, die at the behest of love?

Wouldn't I, like Achilles who avenged for Patroclus,

in my small turf of love, be the flute-player,

Of love redefined, honourable and virtuous?

Teach me, then, O Plato,

to live the truth that love is the love of the

everlasting possession of the good.

Wouldn't I want to seek immortality

To leave behind glorious tales

Of love, pure and true,

in the breasts of men,

Least to the awe of nature?

C) Salem Lorot /echoes of the hills 2014

Note:

This poem has been influenced by Plato's 'Symposium'. 

I found a very nice quote on love:

"Love is said to be the god who

Gives peace on earth and calms the stormy deep,

Who stills the winds and bids  the sufferer sleep"