POEM BY KOSTAS KRYSTALLIS

GATHERING OF THE GRAPES

                                                      excerpt

The grapevine blooms and spreads its vines

over the bulrushes and cypress branches

in riverbeds and in crevasses full of rocks

it spreads its fragrance with every stirring

of the air, as on the hillsides, mountains and the plains

great swarms of bees rouse from their hives

to drink the vine’s ethereal smells

and forage on its pistils full of nectar

and spread the news in buzzing eulogies.

Girls of the village start their day, following

nature’s wisdom to their orchards and their groves,

on mountains and plains, with baskets, joyful

and with songs. The gathering and harvesting begin,

and the countryside awakens to their sweat

and girlish scents and every grapevine row

as if arising from the earth brings forth new chthonian fairies…    

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/vznd2p?page=1&pageSize=10

REPETITIONS, SECOND SERIES

Themistocles

               And they secretly brought his remains to Attica

                                                                        Thucydides

He, who glorified his land like no other, he, who knew deep

inside that each freedom resulted in another new slavery worse

         than the first,

he, with the great plans, the most successful achiever, now

suspicious to all, misunderstood by all, chased by Athenians and

Lacedaemonians too, he couldn’t find refuge not even in Corfu

(who considered him their benefactor). Thus, having no other

recourse, he went and seek his safety at his enemies’ land (and

he knew that this was what the others waited: “here is the proof

of his guilt; what else do we need? His treason is obvious for all

         to see”

And, he, stooped there on the side, with the baby of Admetus

in his arms, he fell at his feet so his enemy would take pity

         on him.

Then, in the land of Artaxerxes — what bitter welcoming for him,

what speeches and what promises — and gifts and honors from

          the barbarians:

Magnesia would be his bread, Lampsacus his wine and Myounta

          his appetiser;

but he postponed, he asked for more time with excuses: firstly

to learn Persian, to be able to talk directly to the king with no

third people in between, without translator and the unavoidable

          mistakes;

he had in mind to tell all to him, the what, the when, he won’t

hide anything — the secret defence lines, the weak points —

          until, finally,

the night of the “important meeting” and while Artaxerxes was

          waiting for him anxiously,

wearing his official attire, he got dressed in his Hellenic cloths

          which he had brought from his homeland,

by then totally worn out, and he neared serenely to the multi-

engraved table and wrote a short note: “transfer my bones

somewhere to Attica without informing the Athenians” Then

he gulped all the contents of the glass.

                                                             There they found him

the same night in his humble cloths, motionless, serene at last.

The Persians mourned him in a big way. His great monument

is still standing in the Agora of Magnesia. As far as the other

is concerned, I mean his short note, we never learned if

his bones ever reached Attica.

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/w454dzp?page=1&pageSize=10

Θένια Πραντίκου – Μαρία Μπουσδέκη, Δύο ποιήματα