Διαβάζω συχνά ότι η αγκινάρα (κυνάρα στα αρχαία) συσχετίζεται με κάποιο νησί που λέγεται Zinara, αλλά πού βρίσκεται αυτό το νησί;
Το ακόλουθο άρθρο έχει ενδιαφέρον, αλλά ο ιστότοπος δεν υπάρχει πια...
In Sicily the artichoke is known as 'sinar'. Legend has it that Zeus, enamored of the lovely Cynara (Sinara) who lived on the island of Zinara
Τί ξέρετε για αυτό το μύθο;
Τελειώνω με ένα πανέμορφη ποίημα του Ernest Dowson.
"Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae"
Δεν είμαι αυτό που ήμουν υπό την καλή κυριαρχία της Κυνάρας
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
Το ακόλουθο άρθρο έχει ενδιαφέρον, αλλά ο ιστότοπος δεν υπάρχει πια...
In Sicily the artichoke is known as 'sinar'. Legend has it that Zeus, enamored of the lovely Cynara (Sinara) who lived on the island of Zinara
Τί ξέρετε για αυτό το μύθο;
Τελειώνω με ένα πανέμορφη ποίημα του Ernest Dowson.
"Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae"
Δεν είμαι αυτό που ήμουν υπό την καλή κυριαρχία της Κυνάρας
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.