ashelone

[ashelone]

cemeteries aren't creepy they're actually devoted to memory and rest and love and humanity

[ashelone]

james longenbach / wendy cope / jon kabat-zinn

#words words words #poetry #positivity

[ashelone]

So much for all the mason bee footage I was going to get this week...

#flora #nature

[ashelone]

Rain and lightning, always a good opportunity to thank Zeus and Hera.

#zeus #hera

[ashelone]

Vera Bock (1905-1973), “The Heroes” by Charles Kingsley, 1954 Source

#art

[ashelone]

Between night and day

#art #nature #<3

[ashelone]

Honor the goddesses in your lives, both mortal and immortal 

#aphrodite #art

[ashelone]

#mushroom mushroom

[ashelone]

#quotes

[ashelone]

A Hymn to Artemis

To amuse myself while I translate the Homeric Hymns, I decided to try writing my own Hymns in a similar style. Here’s one to Artemis that I whipped up this morning. I hope you enjoy it. (Next is Poseidon.)

——————————————————————————————– Sing, Pierian Muses - for you are able - Of Artemis, the shining goddess, pourer of arrows, Mistress of beasts, with her tunic drawn up Above her knees, who runs through the rocky glades And mountain dells, a train of nymphs at her heels: Sometimes at noon she runs, when the Sun Showers its brilliant rays from overhead; Sometimes at night she runs, exulting In the Moon’s silver gleam, and her arrows gleam silver as well. Sister from the same womb to Apollo she is- Daughter of glorious Leto and Zeus who delights in thunder. Goddess of three faces, called by some Artemis, By some Selene, and by others still Hecate - You will be the subject of my song, if the Muses grant it. But how best to sing of you, beast-slaying maiden? I could sing perhaps of your birth in hidden Ortygia, When you sprang forth from Leto into the light And all the assembled women, nymphs and goddesses, Raised a cry of joy. Or I could sing Of the day the dread Giants took up arms against Olympus - On that day your bow and quiver were never still, Fast and thickly your arrows sang from the string And not a one that did not find its mark In the chest of some Earth-born monster, laying him low In his hubris. Then, too, I could sing, As many have before, of Actaeon, ill-starred hunter, Who stumbled on you bathing - his eyes Saw things forbidden, and in justice You punished him. Turned to a stag, hooves For hands and feet, antlers from his brow, He fell prey to his own greedy hounds. But no, Artemis pourer of arrows, I have a greater song in mind. Evoke now, Muses, The proud Achaeans, thousands upon thousands, Chieftains and spear-bearing men, assembled On Aulis’ shore, eager to sail for Troy Where godlike Paris had secreted Helen Unmatched in beauty. But they did not sail, Not at first, for Agamemnon full of folly Had slain a swift hind consecrated to you, o Artemis. Your wrath was great. You pressed your hand Upon the winds - it was easy for you, a goddess - And penned them in their cave, feeble, helpless. The East Wind could not blow; the black ships Could not make their way over the watery deep To Troy’s high walls. Such anger, goddess, Among the bronze-helmeted Achaeans! How they raged at Agamemnon, cursed The lord of Mycenae for his blindness In offending you, Artemis, haunter of the lonely hills. Blood called for blood; and so Atreus’ son Led his own offspring, white-browed Iphigenia, To the altar. High he raised the knife… And then what, Muses? Tell me unerringly. Did he slay her? So some say, But others - theirs is the truer account - Sing of a wonder: that mighty Artemis placed A deer beneath the blade, and bore Iphigenia, All unseen, far from the shores of Hellas, To the Euxine hateful to sailors, there to dwell Among the stone-hearted Taurians. Then the winds blew forth, whipping the gray sea to froth, And they sailed, the uncountable Achaeans, To bronze-gated Ilium - many sailed but few Returned, through the will of Zeus, Cronus’ invincible son. But they did not forget you, swift-footed lady, For on Aulis’ sandy shore Agamemnon set up Your form in wood, and still today the rustic Boeotians Journey there, by foot and wagon, over long roads, All to fall at your feet and chant the name of Artemis Who delights in the hunt and spurns the works of Eros. Hear me, goddess - grant me prosperous works And health; defend me with your gleaming arrows. And in return I shall pray to you as I wander The wilds, the hollows where no man lives. But never shall I forget you, Even as I pass on now to another song.

#artemis #!!!!

[ashelone]

“Hestia tends the flame” / Héstia cuida da chama

 Portuguese:

Quando a de dedos róseos se espreguiça E dourado Hélio seus cavalos atende A flamejante Deusa urge, sempre diligente Já quando o céu encandeia pela quadriga

Dedos atentos aquecendo ambrosia Canções e louvores na ponta da língua A luz eterna no Olimpo que jamais mingua Em áureas flamas, a refeição cozia

Em bronze ela adorna e logo dispõe Belo semblante apressa-se adiante Hebe a assiste, com néctar brilhante E diante dos Imortais se expõe Eles sorriem, em esplendor doméstico Aproximando-se de Héstia e seu prato A chama ruge, coluna ao centro Os Deuses vêm em seu alento

Zeus assente, o Rei entre Deuses Hera gesticula, sua Esposa em flor Os Deuses partilham da refeição Mas não sem antes uma libação

Apolo das Musas, cítara em mão Propicia Boulaia com uma canção Os doze a honram, primeiro e último E festejam a primogênita no Olimpo

English:

When the rosy-fingered one stretches And golden Helios His horses attends The Flaming Goddess urges, always diligent When the sky shines through with the chariot

Careful fingers warming up ambrosia Songs and praises on the tip of the tongue The eternal light on Olympus that never wanes In golden flames, the meal is cooked

In bronze is adorned and presented Her beautiful form rushes ahead Hebe assists her, with brilliant nectar And before the Immortals she exposes herself

They smile, in domestic splendor Approaching Hestia and her plate The roaring flame, column in the center The Gods come hither

Zeus nods, the King among Gods Hera gestures, his flowered-wife The Gods share the meal Not before a libation

Apollo of the Muses, khitara in hand Provides Boulaia with a song The Twelve honor her, first and last And celebrate the firstborn on Olympus

As always, the poem is supposed to rhyme in portuguese, not in english, but I hope you guys appreciate it. The Muse struck me with a bit of domestic bliss this morning and I could not stop improvising a song to Hestia whilst cooking.

Anyways, may the Gods be with you! Khaire Hestia!

#hestia

[ashelone]

Cocorrina & Co on Instagram

#art #celestial

[ashelone]

Descriptive Epithets of Hera

Hera Aegophagos • Hera the goat-eater (Spartan)

Hera Alexandros • Hera defender of men

Hera Antheia • Hera the blooming/friend of the flowers

Hera Argoea • Hera of the ship Argo

Hera Boopis • Hera cow-eyed

Hera Heniokhe • Hera of the chariot

Hera Hippia • Hera of horses (chariot races at Olympia)

Hera Hyperkheiria • Hera who holds her protective hand above

[ X ]

#hera

[ashelone]

source

#hermes

[ashelone]

Anis Mojgani, from “Here I Am”, Songs from Under the River: A Collection of Poetry

#motivation #positivity

[ashelone]

WHAT is that one poem (?), abt a modern worker contemplating the numerous forgotten who were actually responsible for all the ‘great’ deeds of history

[ashelone]

Morning Prayer to Hestia

Grass-yellow Hestia,

Warm as the blankets I woke up in

and the coffee I sip.

Eldest daughter of red-flowing Rhea

and mighty Kronos,

First among the gods

and last upon Olympus.

Thank you for this house

in which we both reside.

Your reassuring presence lifts my spirits

and warms my heart.

Protect my family

Until we return tonight

to your yellow-eyed hearth.

#hestia