27 June 2011


Horsefield, acrylic, oil pastel, charcoal pencil

Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run,
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.

Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask, who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great-grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.

The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.

Czeslaw Milosz

Και για μένα δεν προσεύχομαι μοναχά,
Αλλά για όλους, αυτούς που στάθηκαν μαζί μου στη σειρά
Στη ζέστα του Ιούλη, στο ψύχος του χειμώνα
Κάτω από τον τόσο κόκκινο, τον τοίχο, κι αθώρητο ακόμα.

Άννα Αχμάτοβα

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