Medea

Это мой поэтический перевод моего же стихотворения

http://stihi.ru/2025/02/27/4021

A cry is caged within my chest,
But lips are dry, too numb to plead.
My husband Jason, godlike, great,
You shall not see Medea weep.

That night, beneath the mountain’s shade,
Before the dawn, so black, so dire,
We swore an oath that would not fade—
We pledged our souls in ancient fire.

My dragon, monster, beast of mine,
I chose your love above a throne.
You were my law, my light, my world,
My bliss, my grief—my fate alone.

I followed you, forsook my home,
Left all behind, no path to turn,
Paid for my choice in blood and woe -
My father’s curse, my brother’s urn.

But, hero mine, you dared forget
The wife you took, her deadly might!
A fire runs within my veins—
Not born to kneel, not scared to fight.

A fateful sign, dark Hecate’s will,
A serpent coils where love once lay.
The gods demand a sacrifice—
Where are, you ask, our sons today?

Our youngest—ah, he barely screamed,
For seconds, my raised hand stayed stuck.
His blood ran fast in crimson streams,
Still mingling with the milk he’d drunk.

Our eldest—no, he did not flee,
Nor tried to shield his chest from blade.
He died with a smile, like a true Hellene,
His father’s son, my gift to you, Hecate.

The flames consume my shattered mind,
The Furies call, the skies turn red.
Our oath is ashes, lost in time—
Now you are dead, Jason.
Now. You. Are. Dead.