The Places of the literary tale of Theocritus (Archipelago of the Cyclops)
The Places of Theocritus' literary tale are included in the "Regional Map of Places of Identity and Memory" (LIM) established by the Region of Sicily with the DA n. 8410 of 03/12/2009
The reference sector is that relating to "places of the literary, cinematographic and filmic story ".
The places of the literary tale of Pindaro included in the IWB:
(Idyll XI) Etna volcano (province of Catania), Archipelago of the Cyclops (Acitrezza-province of Catania)
- Idylls are a collection of 30 essays in hexameters, of which the eleventh concerns Polyphemus.
XI - The Cyclops
There is no remedy, Nicia, for love
not ointment, not powder, it seems to me
none other than the Pieridi. Something
light for men and suave
this is it, but finding it is not easy.
And I think you are well aware of it
as a doctor you, at nine Muses
more delight than any other. So then
he passed away without any thought
the local Cyclops, Polyphemus
of ancient time, when it sprouted
recently on the mouth and temples
the first beard and loved Galatea.
He didn't love her with apples, with roses
or with rings, but like a true madman
and nothing had more weight to him.
His sheep often returned
sun in the fold, away from green pastures,
and he, alone, singing Galatea
on the seaweed-covered coast
it was consumed until the dawn
with a hideous sore under the heart
and of the great Cyprid in the liver
the arrow stuck. But he found the remedy;
sitting on top of a rock
so he sang with his gaze on the sea:
“O white Galatea, why do you reject
who loves you, you whiter than cheese,
of a more tender, more proud lamb
of a calf, shinier and smoother
of sour grapes, you who appear to me
together with sweet sleep and you disappear,
as soon as sweet sleep goes away?
Flee like a sheep that has seen
a gray wolf? And I of you, little girl,
I fell in love when you came to gather
the first time hyacinth leaves
with my mother on the mountain; I was guiding you.
Since I saw you I could not stop
never again, not even after; and to you, by Zeus,
you don't care. I understood,
beautiful child, because you run away from me,
because it extends over the entire forehead
a single long, shaggy eyebrow
from one ear to the other and I have only one eye
and flattened the nose over the lip.
Even so, however, thousands of sheep
I take to pasture and drink excellent milk
milked from them and I don't miss cheese,
in summer or autumn or in the middle of winter;
the racks are always full of them.
Like none of the Cyclops here
I know how to whistle and I sing to you, my love,
you sweet apple, often late at night,
and myself together. For you I breed
eleven doe, all with collars
and four little bears. But you come,
come to me: you have nothing to lose,
let the sparkling sea quiver
above the shore. Inside my cave
the more gently you will spend the night
near me. The laurels are there,
flexible cypresses, black ivy
and there is the vine with its sweet fruit,
there is fresh water, ambrosia for those who drink
that makes me descend from the white snow
Etna covered with trees. In front of
to these things who would like to choose
the waves of the sea? And if I look like myself
too hairy, I have oak wood
and a perennial fire in the ashes.
For your part I would even put up with it
that I burned my soul and even
my eye only, of which nothing in the world
for me it is sweeter. Alas if with the gills
my mother had brought me into the world,
and I could dive right up to you
and kiss your hand if you don't want to
that you kiss your mouth! White lilies
I would have brought you and tender poppy
with red petals. But in the summer
some blossom in winter
and I couldn't have all together
bring them up to you. Child now
I want to learn to swim right away
if by chance a stranger comes here
aboard a ship, to understand
because it is so pleasant for you
inhabit the abyss. Galatea,
maybe you would come and, when you come,
forgot to go home,
as it happens to me sitting here.
And you would like to go to the pasture with me,
milk the milk and firm up the cheese
pouring sour rennet into it!
Only my mother doesn't do me justice
and I regret it with her,
never put with you on my account
a good word, yet he sees
that, day after day, I perish.
I'll tell you my head is throbbing
and both feet so that he grieve,
since I am also afflicted ”.
O Cyclops, Cyclops, which way
Have you flown into the depths of yourself?
If I came to weave baskets
and to pluck the sprout for the lambs
you would certainly make more sense.
Milk the one next to you. Why do you chase
who runs away? No doubt you will find
another Galatea, even more beautiful.
They invite me to have fun at night
many girls, all screaming,
when I listen to them. Then it's clear
that I too am someone in the country.
And so he grazed to the sound of music
Polyphemus his love, and he was better
than if he paid money.
Card insertion: Ignatius Caloggero
Photo: web
Information contributions: Ignazio Caloggero, Web
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