The black night had cast a deafening veil onto the maze.
Dedalus, father of Icarus, had contrived an unsolvable trap.
No man sent within its walls could ever escape,
But by a sinister fate both father and son became its captives.
"Icarus, my son, forgive me.
With no cords to our wrists,
We will never escape this infernal trap."
"Father,
Your mind is stronger than this maze,
For you have created it."
Dedalus was touched by his son's words,
But the heaviness lingered in his soul.
At the heart of darkness,
Under the celestial arch despondency was setting in.
From the depth of his desolation,
He looked up to the stars for one last prayer.
"Gods of Light and Dark,
I could walk within these walls for the rest of my days
And I could never find the way out.
O Gods of the Earth and the Skies, hear me."
As soon as he spoke these words,
An idea kindled within his dim spirit.
If the paths of the earth are forfeit,
The paths of the sky are open.
Dedalus thanked the Gods
For having imparted this vision
And immersed himself at once in his work.
From the wax he possessed
And the feathers left behind by the birds overpassing the maze,
He managed to fashion spectacular wings for himself and his son.
The following dawn,
They strapped the wings to their shoulders.
Ready to depart,
Dedalus gave his son one final piece of advice.
My son,
Take off.
Fly in the ardent wind
But remember not to approach the heat of the sun,
The wax would not resist.
Keep also your distance from the waves,
Which could engulf you."
Icarus had often seen himself flying,
Akin to the birds cavorting with the breeze in the Etesian wind.
Consumed by the unnameable desire to caress the clouds,
He trembled with zealousness, eager to take flight.
At last, they took off.
In one instant,
They had reached the sky and escape the insuperable maze.
For the first time, like the eagle,
They could behold the magnificent coasts of their whitened homeland
Enveloped in the brilliant Greek sun.
Upon reaching the Asian strait and consumed by unbounded freedom,
Icarus took no heed of his father's words.
The winds were taking him higher and higher
But amidst the turmoil of Aeolian winds,
He could not hear his father's screams.
Icarus, come down.
Come to me my son I beg you, come to me.
But his wails of distress finished in the white-hot misty azure.
Little by little,
The wax of the wings was pearling and melting.
One by one,
The untied feathers were escaping on the wind.
Icarus understood too late.
Suddenly,
The wings froze after a last frantic stroke.
The careless son,
His eyes brimming with tears and horror,
Saw his father from afar.
Dedalus could but witness,
Powerlessly,
His son's deadly fall into the shadowy waters of eternal silence.
Dedalus grounded the beach,
Cursing the Gods and his own design.
How he regretted not to have been able to tell him
How wise one must be to live one's dream,
Without burning one's own wings.