Sunday, September 3, 2017


I know the names no longer of a world
that disavows me. I read seashells, leaves,
and the stars clearly.

I have no need of hatred on the roads of the sky
Unless the dream is that which watches me again
As I walk by the sea of immortality in tears.
Hesperus, under the arc of your golden flame
I know the night no longer that is a night only.


What coherence of soul amid the halcyons of the afternoon!
And what windcalm amid the cries of distant shoresl
The cuckoo-bird amid the veil of trees
And the mystic moment of the fishermen’s supper
And the sea that upon its accordion plays
The distant languor of a woman
The beautiful one who bared her breasts
As memory entered into the nests
And lilacs showered the sunset with fire!

With a small boat, with the sails of the Madonna
They left, and with the well-wishes of the winds,
All those who loved the lilies’ sojourn in foreign shores.

But how the night here has warbled sleep
With gurgling hair upon gleaming necks
And upon vast white seashores
And how the dust of maiden dreams
Fragrant with spearmint and basil
Was scattered and foamed on high
By the golden sabre of Orion!
On crossroads where the ancient sorceress stood
Setting the winds aflame with dry thyme
Lightly stepped the slender shadows
Each holding a jug immured with muted water
Easily as if they were going into Paradise
And from the cricket’s prayers that foamed upon the fields

 Odysseus Elytis

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