26 June 2011

Pinetree












Καὶ θυμᾶμαι τὸν ἥλιο ποὺ γελοῦσε

Πού γελοῦσε καὶ δάκρυζε θυμᾶμαι

Γιῶργος Σαραντάρης

















Pinetree, water colour











                           for Michael Longley

                           As a child, they could not keep me from wells
                           And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
                           I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
                           Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.


                           One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
                           I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
                           Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
                           So deep you saw no reflection in it.


                            A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
                            Fructified like any aquarium.
                            When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
                            A white face hovered over the bottom.


                            Others had echoes, gave back your own call
                            With a clean new music in it. And one
                            Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
                            Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.


                           Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
                           To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
                           Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
                           To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.



                          Seamus Heaney
                          Personal Helicon

















Όποιος ποτέ του δεν αγάπησε, θ' αγαπήσει, στο φως...

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