DREAMS OF ITHACA

Come Odysseus

Raise high your sail.

Be guided by the moon so pale.

To scented scenes of childhood dreams.

Back to Ithaca I go.

Here darkness is shattered

By moonlight scattered.

A spotlight on the stage

Each ripple bright

With fractured light.

By stars to a true course stay.

But Odysseus, if per chance

In sleep you lose your way

Drop a pebble in the sea

And follow the ripples home.

And when the ripples turn to waves,

Then on the shore to foam

Fall on your knees in the golden sand

And spell your name in stones. (Odysseus)

Hold a prayer in your upturned hands

And to the heavens shout

I am a child of Ithaca

Remade by winds and war

And I am home, I am home... I am home!