Burnished day, conch of the voice …

Burnished day, conch of the voice ...

Burnished day, conch of the voice ...

Burnished day, conch of the voice that fashioned me
Naked, to step through my perpetual Sundays
Between the shores’ cries of welcome,
Let your wind, known for the first time, blow freely
Unfold a lawn of tenderness
Where the sun can roll his head
Can enflame the poppies with his kiss
Poppies nourished by men so fine
That the sole mark on their bare chests
Is the blood of defiance that annuls sorrow
And attains the remembrance of liberty.

I spoke of love, of the rose’s health, of the ray
That by itself goes straight to the heart,
Of Greece that steps so surely on the sea
Greece that carries me always
Among naked snow-crowned mountains.

I give my hand to justice
Diaphanous fountain, sublimest spring,
My sky is deep and changeless
All I love is incessantly reborn
All I love is always at its beginning.

Greek poet Odysseus Elytis (1911-1996), winner of the 1979 Nobel Prize for Literature. Translation by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard.

Thanks to Thelma for introducing me to a hitherto unknown poet.

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One Response to “Burnished day, conch of the voice …”

  1. THELMA Says:

    Thank you Keith, for your friendship and for appreciating beauty.
    Thelma xxx

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