Αργυρόι Άνθρωποι

Transliterated, it's 'Arguroi Anthropoi', and translated from Greek, it's 'Silver People.' It's the name of a poem I have just written, and is inspired by a Romanian song known as 'Blood and Gold' that is here performed by Andy Irvine:

Beyond this, I won't talk on the poem, but present it here in this posting, to which can be discussed in comments after reading. So, without further adieu, here is the poem:

Αργυρόι Άνθρωποι (Silver People)

Come one come all to the fields of gold

Where ichor, the blood of the gods is sold.

For a price, said the medicine woman, you can taste of the vial,

And, if the gods accept you into their fold,

You may never die and never grow old.

To be immortal like the gods by drinking their bile.

Talk in the village square,

Of eternal life is in the air.

Mothers, sisters, and wives tell the tale,

Of hopes to revive fallen sons, brothers, and husbands,

Which gods of war have taken, leaving bodies rest upon the lands.

But the bile of the medicine woman, could it not fail?

For upon these fields of gold were battles fought, lost and won.

And the wars and rumors of wars were proclaimed by an only son.

To purchase this new miracle, could they be forsaken?

By the hands of man, slavery by gold, did they give over the field,

T'was Paris' folly among the goddesses for the apple, that he did yield.

To Aphrodite, for eternal love, to Hellen, to which a bond was broken.

And so did the gods give to blood so blue,

The prize and consequence of service due.

And the fields of gold, once prosperous and pure

For the price of silver remedies, and the poison of ichor

The copper blood of paupers, the hubris of man did pour

In so many wars for the lands to endure.

And even still, man has found no cure.