Beneath the hazels in the pool,
where speckled salmon turned about himself,
in the water mirror silvered smooth,
he looked and saw his love
among a flock of swans,
white wings beating,
rising from a moonlit lake,
and in his madness fled
where feathered sleep would never find
him, nor the sun
at morning break, and time and tides
had ceased to run.
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Such lyrical, beautiful lines for this sad tale.
And reflections. ๐
Thanks ๐ It is a sad story. Aengus never gets what he yearns for.
No. . .but it’s still beautiful.
I’m pleased you think so ๐
beautiful and romantic
Thank you ๐
Illusions haunt us, follow us. The words are like the changing mirror of a dream.
Aengus is like so many of the characters in Irish mythology, very complex. A very good example of how ‘they fuck you up, your mum and dad’.
Mythology likes swans or likes to use them. I’m reminded of Zeus transforming himself to get whom we wants. The story of Aengus is much more interesting, more so because of the way you tell it with loss, madness, and nature intertwining.
Zeus is one of my pet hates in mythology. Yes, poor Leda. Poor Europa too. He was a real salopard as we say over here. Women (men too sometimes) in Irish mythology often turn into swans, either by an enchantment or to escape from unwanted attentions. They usually have the power to change themselves back again. Handy. Aengus was a sad case, but look at his childhood!