Day IV. To Máni Fengári

I raise a horn of the best sheep’s milk
to you Máni, who in your wide travels
have found no mountain more pleasing
to you than ancient shining Sàos, pinnacle
of Samothrace in the sacred Aegean sea;
from its summit one can behold the Troad
where once you fought beside Grímnir
and his valorous son Þórr, who drove the invading
Danaäns back with flaming hammer
and ash-spear that always strikes true.
They say that on nights when the Moon shines
full on the peak that two youths bearing a bucket
on a pole between them may be glimpsed
braving the steep and treacherous shepherd trails
in search of you, your fosterlings and attendants
Hjúki and Bil, who have filled the bucket with ouzo
from local stills, graciously offered to the Savior God.
For sailors use the promontory to navigate by
when thick clouds obscure the sky, and those
who are wise listen for the sound
of your komboloi clacking like thunder
to bring them safe into the harbor.
Since Byzantine times the mount has ceased to be
known as Sàos, but after you has been named Φεγγάρι.
And so I ask that you watch over me and mine
as we go out into the world, and Máni I pray,
always show us the clear way back home.


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