What do you see? ( For the worldwide day of Poetry)

 

Many years after the Sin that was called Virtue into the churches and it was blessed.

Remains of old stars and spidery corners of the sky scanned by the Storm that will be born from the human mind. And by paying the projects of the ancient governors, the Build will shudder.Riot will fall in Hades and the scaffold will fall back by the great pressure of the Sun that will first keep its rays - sign that is the time for the Dreams to take revenge and then it will talk and say :

-Exiled Poet, in your century, say what do you see?

-I see the nations arrogant before, surrendered now to the wasp and the sorrel. I see the chippers in the air blasting busts of Emperors and Generals. I see the merchants bending to collect the profit of their own corpses. I see the sequence of the hidden meanings...

Remains of old stars and spidery corners of the sky scanned by the Storm that will be born from the human mind. But before behold, it will take generations to plow over the barren land. And secretly the Governors will count their human merchandise, declaring wars , where the gendarme and the military judge will cloy leaving the gold to the inconspicuous people, those to get the payment of insult and martyrdom. And large ships will raise up flags, marches will get the streets, the balconies will throw flowers to the winner , who will live in the smell of the corpses...and the mouth of the pit close to him will be opened by the darkness up to its measures, croaking :

-Exiled Poet, in your century, say what do you see?

-I see the military judges burning like candles at the large table of the Ressurection. I see the gendarmerie giving their blood as sacrifice to the purity of heavens. I see the continuous revolution of plants and flowers. I see up into the skies the Erechtheion of the birds.

And by paying the projects of the ancient governors the Build will shudder.Riot will fall in Hades and the scaffold will fall back by the great pressure of the sun. But before,behold, young people will moan and their blood will grow old without a reason. Pale and weak years will come into bandage.And each shall have a few grams of happiness. And the things in each shall already be beautiful ruins.Then having no other exile, where the Poet to lament, pouring out from his open chest the heald of the Storm, he shall lean to stand into the beautiful ruins.

And his First Word the Last of the Men shall speak:

Τhe grass to grow tall, the Woman at his side to emerge like a Sunbeam and again He shall adore the Woman and He shall lay Her on the grass, according to the order of things.

And the Dreams shall take revenge and they shall sow Generations Forever and Ever...

Odysseas Elytis
"Worthy it is(Αξιον Εστί), 1959