text from the translation by William Blake Tyrrell
let us begin / with / the / dance /
after bathing / the peak
of / their / desire /
they move / through the night /
the / mere stomachs, / like, /
breathed / the blessed / oak / from
their mouths /
many / were / dancing / all around /
their feet / holding / thunder /
all the people look / straight /
as if! /
god / he stands out /
mouth / sweeter than / fresh grief /
remember,
children of / snowy / recesses /
were / always / the /most fearful /
they were like / all / strong / children /
one of them was born / sorrowing in her heart /
children / obey / fear /
all / of them / laughed /
in the revolving years / the sea / began to arise /
grass grew / and / a young girl’s / deceits /
stretched with a great recklessness /
sleep and / dreams /
trees / and / destructive / men /
who causes pain / because he is / excessively manly? /
who loves to laugh? / the daughters with beautiful hair /
and / the gorgons / who suffered /
they were, / like, / huge /
there is / they say / an unmanageable thing /
the brutal force of / the / booty /
who / is / a pain? /
the family /
they are / like / the most / conspicuous /
home is / whoever / is right /
it is good to / be called / beautiful /
who / received / violence? /
who has / parents? /
children / learned / to / swallow / secret / fury /
informed / fat / was / monstrous /
she hid / in / clothes /
put / down/
cruel / and unconcerned /
when / men were / slightly / fat /
the ox / did not / forget /
it / is / living with / bees / all day /
something noble / in / rivals /
a great bond / beneath / the / battles /
but / the breasts of them / untouchable /
the unexpected / dread /
the / good things / all of them /
a hundred / heavy / mournful / hands /
all the earth was boiling /
unplowed / and / deprived /
it seemed / terrible /
before they had launched at one another /
they cast shadows /
there is no / being inside the house /
never / look / hated /
he devours whomever he catches /
quarrels arise among / many names /
it is / a great / nine years /
there are / painful / halls /
sometimes they spoke so god could comprehend /
sometimes they / thundered / and / raged /
tin heated / craftsmen /
blazing / melting / blowing / over the sea /
there is no remedy for this / flowering / uproar /
but, / by / zeus, /
gleaming / and starry /
they / might / be gods

Catherine Weiss is a poet + illustrator based in Western Massachusetts. Their work has been published in Up the Staircase Quarterly, Counterclock, Freezeray Poetry, Jersey Devil Press, Drunk in a Midnight Choir, Buck Off Mag, Noble/Gas Quarterly, and Slamfind. More at http://catherineweiss.com.