Oliveblue

Oliveblue, acrylic, pastels, 2011

stillhorse

Stillhorse, acrylic, soft pastel, 2011

Rocktree

Rocktree, water colour, 1997

Firetree

Firetree, water colour

Horsefield

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

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...

Γιώργος Σεφέρης

                   

Bluehorse

Ὕπαρξη,

Δῶρο στὴν ἁγνή μας οὐσία

Γιῶργος Σαραντάρης

Bluehorse, (watercolour, charcoal pencil, ink, pastel)

Memory believes before knowing remembers.

William Faulkner