dots and spots
Un tipo le dice a otro yo soy pank, pank El otro le contesta si, y yo suy punk, pank punk Otro llega y dice: compañeros, yo soy pink Punk, pink, pank, punk pink pank dimitris charalabopoylos

Un tipo le dice a otro yo soy pank, pank
El otro le contesta si, y yo suy punk, pank punk
Otro llega y dice: compañeros, yo soy pink
Punk, pink, pank, punk pink pank
dimitris charalabopoylos

I BRING you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale fire of time: White woman with numberless dreams, I bring you my passionate rhyme.
William Butler Yeats

I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

William Butler Yeats

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain   E.E CUMMINGS                ΤΙΝΑ ΜΗΣΙΩΝΗ
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain   

E.E CUMMINGS


ΤΙΝΑ ΜΗΣΙΩΝΗ
A GIRL
The tree has entered my hands,The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast- Downward, The branches grow out of me, like arms. Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them. A child - so high - you are, And all this is folly to the world.

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-RadRzRg
2013-2014
A GIRL
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

-RadRzRg

2013-2014

Long walks at night— that’s what good for the soul: peeking into windows watching tired housewives trying to fight off their beer-maddened husbands.
Mersinias Iasonas

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Long walks at night—
that’s what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
Mersinias Iasonas


It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
   Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.
It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.
The Night by Gary R. Ferris
Still a mystery,I can’t figure out;Race home from work,Where life is without.*****I race to see you,And hold you to me;My mind says you’re there,And my heart won’t see.*****I open the door,It’s still a surprise:You’re not there,And tears fill my eyes.*****I need someone,Or call on the phone;But nothing breaks the silence,Of these walls made of stone.*****I punish myself,By refusing to eat:Depression is silent,I hear my heart beat.*****Where can I go,Or should I stay:Shy to choose,In bed I lay.*****Time will pass,And the dark sets in;Laying there wishing,I could still touch your skin.*****Lying there hurting,I wish I could die;Missing you so much,Again I start to cry.*****Theo Karkazis 2013-2014Sometimes I wonder,If you even know;The way that I need you,Would you still go.*****I can’t sleep now,Again a long night;Are you this lonely,Do you share in my fright.*****
The Night by Gary R. Ferris

Still a mystery,

I can’t figure out;

Race home from work,

Where life is without.
*****
I race to see you,

And hold you to me;

My mind says you’re there,

And my heart won’t see.
*****
I open the door,

It’s still a surprise:

You’re not there,

And tears fill my eyes.
*****
I need someone,

Or call on the phone;

But nothing breaks the silence,

Of these walls made of stone.
*****




I punish myself,

By refusing to eat:

Depression is silent,

I hear my heart beat.
*****
Where can I go,

Or should I stay:

Shy to choose,

In bed I lay.
*****
Time will pass,

And the dark sets in;

Laying there wishing,

I could still touch your skin.
*****
Lying there hurting,

I wish I could die;

Missing you so much,

Again I start to cry.
*****
Theo Karkazis 2013-2014




Sometimes I wonder,

If you even know;

The way that I need you,

Would you still go.
*****
I can’t sleep now,

Again a long night;

Are you this lonely,

Do you share in my fright.
*****

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda 
DIMITRIS KAKOULIDIS

I want you to knowone thing.You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window,if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log,everything carries me to you,as if everything that exists,aromas, light, metals,were little boatsthat sailtoward those isles of yours that wait for me.Well, now,if little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving you little by little.If suddenlyyou forget medo not look for me,for I shall already have forgotten you.If you think it long and mad,the wind of bannersthat passes through my life,and you decideto leave me at the shoreof the heart where I have roots,rememberthat on that day,at that hour,I shall lift my armsand my roots will set offto seek another land.Butif each day,each hour,you feel that you are destined for mewith implacable sweetness,if each day a flowerclimbs up to your lips to seek me,ah my love, ah my own,in me all that fire is repeated,in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,my love feeds on your love, beloved,and as long as you live it will be in your armswithout leaving mine
If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
DIMITRIS KAKOULIDIS
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

The Free Besiege-Dionisios Solomos 
Dimitris Diamantopoulos  And I see in the distance the children and the brave women About the flame they have lit and have painfully fuelled With well-loved articles and modest marriage-beds, Not moving, not lamenting, not even shedding a tear; And a spark touches their hair and their worn-clothes; Come quickly, ashes, so they can fill their hands. They are ready in the relentless flood of weapons With swords to cut their path, and in freedom to stay, On that side with the comrades, on this with death. Like the sun that suddenly cuts through dense and sombre clouds, It strikes the mountains on its slopes and there! houses in the verdure. And from where the sun rises To where it goes down, I did not set eyes on a place more glorious than this small threshing-floor.
 Posted by   John Akritas     at Monday, March 26, 2012

The Free Besiege-Dionisios Solomos

Dimitris Diamantopoulos
And I see in the distance the children and the brave women
About the flame they have lit and have painfully fuelled
With well-loved articles and modest marriage-beds,
Not moving, not lamenting, not even shedding a tear;
And a spark touches their hair and their worn-clothes;
Come quickly, ashes, so they can fill their hands.

They are ready in the relentless flood of weapons
With swords to cut their path, and in freedom to stay,
On that side with the comrades, on this with death.

Like the sun that suddenly cuts through dense and sombre clouds,
It strikes the mountains on its slopes and there! houses in the verdure.

And from where the sun rises
To where it goes down,

I did not set eyes on a place more glorious than this small threshing-floor.

A Farewell
William Wordsworth

George Axiotis




FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,Thou rocky corner in the lowest stairOf that magnificent temple which doth boundOne side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,Farewell!—we leave thee to Heaven’s peaceful care,Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,And there will safely ride when we are gone; The flowering shrubs that deck our humble doorWill prosper, though untended and alone:Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none:These narrow bounds contain our private storeOf things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon;Here are they in our sight—we have no more.Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell!For two months now in vain we shall be sought:We leave you here in solitude to dwellWith these our latest gifts of tender thought; Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat,Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell!Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought,And placed together near our rocky Well.We go for One to whom ye will be dear;And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,Our own contrivance, Building without peer!—A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer, Will come to you; to you herself will wed;And love the blessed life that we lead here.Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed,Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blownAmong the distant mountains, flower and weed,Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own,Making all kindness registered and known;Thou for our sakes, though Nature’s child indeed,Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. And O most constant, yet most fickle Place,Thou hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost showTo them who look not daily on thy face;Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know,And say’st, when we forsake thee, ‘Let them go!’Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild raceOf weeds and flowers, till we return be slow,And travel with the year at a soft pace.Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by,And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; Joy will be flown in its mortality;Something must stay to tell us of the rest.Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock’s breastGlittered at evening like a starry sky;And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,Of which I sang one song that will not die.O happy Garden! whose seclusion deepHath been so friendly to industrious hours;And to soft slumbers, that did gently steepOur spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers, And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers;Two burning months let summer overleap,And, coming back with Her who will be ours,Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

A Farewell

William Wordsworth

George Axiotis

FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,
Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair
Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,
The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,
Farewell!—we leave thee to Heaven’s peaceful care,
Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.

Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,
And there will safely ride when we are gone;
The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door
Will prosper, though untended and alone:
Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none:
These narrow bounds contain our private store
Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon;
Here are they in our sight—we have no more.

Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell!
For two months now in vain we shall be sought:
We leave you here in solitude to dwell
With these our latest gifts of tender thought;
Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat,
Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell!
Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought,
And placed together near our rocky Well.

We go for One to whom ye will be dear;
And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,
Our own contrivance, Building without peer!
—A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,
Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,
With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer,
Will come to you; to you herself will wed;
And love the blessed life that we lead here.

Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed,
Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown
Among the distant mountains, flower and weed,
Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own,
Making all kindness registered and known;
Thou for our sakes, though Nature’s child indeed,
Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,
Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need.

And O most constant, yet most fickle Place,
Thou hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show
To them who look not daily on thy face;
Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know,
And say’st, when we forsake thee, ‘Let them go!’
Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race
Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow,
And travel with the year at a soft pace.

Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by,
And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best;
Joy will be flown in its mortality;
Something must stay to tell us of the rest.
Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock’s breast
Glittered at evening like a starry sky;
And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,
Of which I sang one song that will not die.

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours;
And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep
Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers,
And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers;
Two burning months let summer overleap,
And, coming back with Her who will be ours,
Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

Retirement by William Cowper

Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,From strife and tumult far;From scenes where Satan wages stillHis most successful war.The calm retreat, the silent shade,With prayer and praise agree;And seem, by Thy sweet bounty made,For those who follow Thee.There if Thy Spirit touch the soul,And grace her mean abode,Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love,She communes with her God!There like the nightingale she poursHer solitary lays;Nor asks a witness of her song,Nor thirsts for human praise.Author and Guardian of my life,Sweet source of light Divine,And, — all harmonious names in one, —My Saviour! Thou art mine.What thanks I owe Thee, and what love,A boundless, endless store,Shall echo through the realms above,When time shall be no more.

Πάρης Μ.                                                                         2013-14
Retirement by William Cowper

Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still
His most successful war.

The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With prayer and praise agree;
And seem, by Thy sweet bounty made,
For those who follow Thee.

There if Thy Spirit touch the soul,
And grace her mean abode,
Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love,
She communes with her God!

There like the nightingale she pours
Her solitary lays;
Nor asks a witness of her song,
Nor thirsts for human praise.

Author and Guardian of my life,
Sweet source of light Divine,
And, — all harmonious names in one, —
My Saviour! Thou art mine.

What thanks I owe Thee, and what love,
A boundless, endless store,
Shall echo through the realms above,
When time shall be no more.
Πάρης Μ.                                                                         2013-14

Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long dark way That I had to climb, that I had to know In order that the race might live and grow. Look at my face — dark as the night — Yet shining like the sun with love’s true light. I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea Carrying in my body the seed of the free. I am the woman who worked in the field Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield. I am the one who labored as a slave, Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave — Children sold away from me, I’m husband sold, too. No safety , no love, no respect was I due.Three hundred years in the deepest South: But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth . God put a dream like steel in my soul. Now, through my children, I’m reaching the goal. Now, through my children, young and free, I realized the blessing deed to me. I couldn’t read then. I couldn’t write. I had nothing, back there in the night. Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears, But I kept trudging on through the lonely years. Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun, But I had to keep on till my work was done: I had to keep on! No stopping for me — I was the seed of the coming Free. I nourished the dream that nothing could smother Deep in my breast — the Negro mother. I had only hope then , but now through you, Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true: All you dark children in the world out there, Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair. Remember my years, heavy with sorrow — And make of those years a torch for tomorrow. Make of my pass a road to the light Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night. Lift high my banner out of the dust. Stand like free men supporting my trust. Believe in the right, let none push you back. Remember the whip and the slaver’s track. Remember how the strong in struggle and strife Still bar you the way, and deny you life — But march ever forward, breaking down bars. Look ever upward at the sun and the stars. Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers Impel you forever up the great stairs — For I will be with you till no white brother Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.
Giannis M.                                   7/4/2014

Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face — dark as the night —
Yet shining like the sun with love’s true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave —
Children sold away from me, I’m husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I’m reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn’t read then. I couldn’t write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me —
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast — the Negro mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow —
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver’s track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life —
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs —
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.

Giannis M.                                   7/4/2014

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.I learn by going where I have to go.We think by feeling. What is there to know?I hear my being dance from ear to ear.I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.Of those so close beside me, which are you?God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,And learn by going where I have to go.Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.Great Nature has another thing to doTo you and me; so take the lively air,And, lovely, learn by going where to go.This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.What falls away is always. And is near.I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.I learn by going where I have to go.

                                              Elena Saliou / 2014                                                    Nina
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
                                              Elena Saliou / 2014
                                                    Nina
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.” 
                                                   Elena Saliou                                                   Nina   /2014
  • Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
    “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door -
    Only this, and nothing more.”

                                                   Elena Saliou
                                                   Nina   /2014

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
vassos ilias 2013-14
I want you to knowone thing.You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window,if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log,everything carries me to you,as if everything that exists,aromas, light, metals,were little boatsthat sailtoward those isles of yours that wait for me.Well, now,if little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving you little by little.If suddenlyyou forget medo not look for me,for I shall already have forgotten you.If you think it long and mad,the wind of bannersthat passes through my life,and you decideto leave me at the shoreof the heart where I have roots,rememberthat on that day,at that hour,I shall lift my armsand my roots will set offto seek another land.Butif each day,each hour,you feel that you are destined for mewith implacable sweetness,if each day a flowerclimbs up to your lips to seek me,ah my love, ah my own,in me all that fire is repeated,in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,my love feeds on your love, beloved,and as long as you live it will be in your armswithout leaving mine
If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
vassos ilias 2013-14
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine