Lighthouse Keeper

You see, it isn’t inactivity or forgetfulness, on

the contrary; you could call it a responsible isolation,

chosen by you so that the whole of you might exist

in the void.  I don’t know. No, don’t stay, the lighthouse

light is tiring, distant, useless.                  

              Don’t stay.

Sometimes I too shift, in order to get the sense that

I exist, from my motionless position to the multi-

motional position of a ship, of a voyager, of a castaway,

to notice, in the night, the importance of my position seen

from the opposite side when our sets, made of carton paper,

are destroyed by the last thunderbolt and the stage is left

with only the dead electricians under the broken staircase

and cut ropes, when the ships sink and angry people gaze at

the empty ocean, like a gigantic zero, in the wrath

of the elements, trying to hang onto a plank, because,

of course, they can’t get a hold of the lighthouse rays.

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COME, OH KING OF THE LACEDAEMONIANS

Kratisikleia didn’t condescend

to let the people see her crying and grieving;

she walked gracefully and silently.

Her collected face didn’t show

any of her sorrow and extreme torment.

But nonetheless for a moment she couldn’t hold it;

and before she boarded the wretched ship for Alexandria,

she took her son to the temple of Poseidon,

and when they were alone she embraced him

and she kissed him, he was “in great pain”, says

Plutarch and “deeply troubled”.

But her strong character struggled;

and after recovering, the admirable woman

said to Kleomenis “Come, oh king

of the Lacedaemonians, when we go out

let no one see us crying

or acting in a manner unworthy of Sparta.

Let this alone remain between us;

as for our fate, let it be as the gods wish it.”

And she boarded the ship going toward what the gods wished.

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«Διασπορικοί Διάλογοι» στο αυστραλιανό πολυπολιτισμικό αρχιπέλαγος – Με μεγάλα ονόματα επιστρέφει το Φεστιβάλ Ελλήνων (και μη!) Συγγραφέων