18 July 2015

The Sound of Trees/ ο ήχος των δέντρων

©m.cassapidis, 2015

My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.

from 'The Sound of Trees' by Robert Frost

4 July 2015

summer afternoon/απόγευμα καλοκαιριού


The Gifts
Miltos Sachtouris

Today I wore a
warm red blood
Today people loved me
A woman smiled at me

A girl gave me a sea shell
A boy gave me a hammer

Today I kneel on the sidewalk
and nail the naked white feet of the passerby
to the pavement tiles
they are all in tears
but no one is frightened
all remain in the places to which I had come in time

they are all in tears
but they gaze at the celestial advertisements
at a beggar who sells hot cross buns
in the sky

Two men whisper
what is he doing is he nailing our hearts?

Yes he is nailing our hearts

Well then he is a poet

Translated by Kimon Friar

17 April 2015

is the image the object?

What Voice Is That?
we hear a voice.
Far away, up above.

It is a space stiff, arrogant hands
will never be able to touch.
A radiance
snow and white nights can never get near to.

In the gloomy soul
it has been planted, dazzling.
It is a shining metal thread
someone plucks from the heart.

Only a god
could open its lips on this
dismal night.
Only a god
could make people stuck fast in sickness
feel moved.

those who have lost their legs
will all pursue it, gliding away
while those who cannot see the lamplight
reach out their hands
joining with it to become a sparkling ray.

What voice is it
what is the name of this god of song
who gently stirs the pain.

  Wang Xiaoni

the light- bringers...:Celan


The bright stones

The bright
stones ride through the air, bright
white, the light-

They want to
not sink, not fall,
not collide. They rise
like slender
dog roses they break open,
they float
toward you, my gentle one,
you, my true one—


Look around: see how things all come alive—Celan

m.cassapidis, 2015

Speak You Too

Speak you too,
speak as the last,
say out your say.

But don’t split off No from Yes.
Give your say this meaning too:
give it the shadow.

Give it shadow enough,
give it as much
as you see spread round you from
midnight to midday and midnight.

Look around:
see how things all come alive—
By death! Alive!
Speaks true who speaks shadows


11 April 2015

swallow river // χελιδονοπόταμος

the river overflows with birds//ο ποταμός ξεχειλίζει πουλιά



9 February 2015


For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.
Vincent van Gogh

©m.cassapidis, 2015

2 January 2015

falling wave

©m.cassapidis, 2014

The falling wave,

arch of identity, shattering feathers,

is only spume when it clears,

and returns to its source, unconsumed.

From: Pablo Neruda, ‘Canto General’

in the new year/ νέο έτος

©m.cassapidis, 2014-15


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