Kalypso to Paul of Tarsus

You might have, in your journeys, passed my little
island where mortal love buys endless life.
No faith required, though a warrior’s back and knees
are. You think me a temptress, bully, and warden,
but my guest was too sad to savor the garden
into which fortune saved him, its perfumed trees,
its feasts for every sense. Such pleasures rife,
Ogygia invented the very concept of a blissful
soul life. This love you preach descends
from heaven, but already one of its citizens,
I felt it for him. Boundless, careless of response,
the goddess became a worshipper, the mortal a deity.
From time itself I offered respite, once
he forsook his aging life and retook the alacrity
of his conquering past. But mourning will not rhyme
with loving. In his ark he sailed—a hard crime.
Only your words will live beyond your time.