'Ode Fourth [IV] To the Sacred Band' is a poem by Greek poet Andreas Kalvos, part of his 1824 collection 'Lyre'.
At the time of writing, the Greek War of Independence against the Ottoman Empire was raging. 'The Sacred Band', named after the eponymous force of ancient Thebes, comprised about 400 volunteers, mostly young Greek students. The biggest battle they fought was the Battle of Drăgășani in 1821, which led to a massive loss and the death of over half the force. This poem immortalizes their heroism and love for their country.
It's one of my favourite Greek poems and I translated it to share it with an American friend - and thought I'd share it with you here as well.
I hope you enjoy my translation; I made an effort to keep the poetry in it instead of translating word for word.
Let the cloud never rain
Let the cruel wind never dispel
The blessed earth that shrouds you.
Let it always be watered
By the rose-veiled maiden’s silver tears;
and there, let the flowers grow eternal.
Ο, true children of Greece;
souls who fell bravely in battle,
order of select Heroes,
young pride.
Luck seized from you
the laurel of victors,
and out of myrtle and mournful cypress
she wove another crown.
But for him who dies for his country,
the myrtle leaf is priceless,
the cypress branch is good.
After the provident nature
before the first man’s eyes spilled the fear,
and the golden hopes,
and the morning;
on the great face of the verdurous earth,
at once the celestial gaze
revealed deeply bored,
graves aplenty.
Many of them dark;
on few shines the star of immortality;
free choice the divine allows.
Hellenes, worthy of your country and ancestors;
You Hellenes, how could the inglorious grave be preferable to you?
The Old Man comes envious,
enemy of achievement and of all memory;
he surrounds the sea
and all of the earth;
From the urn he spills
the streams of oblivion,
and annihilates all.
Gone are the cities,
gone are kingdoms and nations;
But when he comes near
the land which holds you,
Time will change his course,
respectful of the wondrous earth.
There, after we bestow upon Greece
the sceptre and Tyrian purple,
will every mother fetch her children.
And tearful, she will kiss the sacred dust,
and say; do as the glorious Band, children,
the Band of Heroes.
