may apricots

7 10 2012

Swallows fly close to the earth tonight
North May wind is getting up,
whistles and blows wild
Snow smells from distant mounts
We put again on something warm
We make sure our windows closed
Left apricots into the bowl upon the table
A hunger for fear nothing satisfies

greek version





the woman who talked to fear

7 02 2011

«A vagrant, that’s what it is; a beggar,» the woman who talked to fear said calmly.

I have met her that very morning at the school gate. “Keep your mind free from fear,” she said to her kids and she smiled at my surprised look. She introduced herself to me and she invited me to her place on the afternoon.

«It comes on the threshold of the mind and it begs for its coin: our subjugation.
«It comes covered into advising recipes. “Watch it!” is the phrase consisting in its fundamental, misleading ingredient.
«It comes, a small and faint thing, just a little shadow; it’s fed on agony, worry, exertion, pain, travail. It weights, day by day, it thickens, expands and spreads; it conquers.»

She poured out fresh lemonade to glasses.

«I have had it in for a long time. It had settled into my rooms. My loved place had been withered under its darkness.
«And then, there came a morning, when I resolved on quitting trouble. It went hungry that day long. Next morning, my mind was clear. I had still had it in, though. Before it goes back to nothingness from where it came, it tried to move me to pity. But, as I had resolutely quit misery, it couldn’t persuade me to feel sorry for it. Instead, it moved me to curiosity. Or, maybe, what I only wished was to listen to a good story – just for fun.»

She brought a bowl from the kitchen and she filled it with apricots from a tree of her garden laden with golden, thick, and juicy fruit.

«It does not exist. This is the truth of it: it doesn’t exist. It admitted this to me. It’s a delusion. A delusion made by an ancient error, grown into some ancient dark gap, back in the very beginning of the world; and it sips life. This life it sips is of no use of it; it doesn’t belong to it. It couldn’t have its own life, either; since it isn’t created. In order to keep itself busy and feel somehow useful, these are its words, it disuses creatures’ life. Humanity lives a life of imperfection and malady because people feed the delusion of fear.»

She reached up to the blossomed apple tree, it have had us under its cool shade, and said, “you, my dear, do know what I’d love to have right now.” After a few fractions of a second a red, plump apple was in her handful.

«It only takes to let it go hungry,» she winded up; and she bit the crisp fruit.

greek version





i grew mellow my fruit

29 09 2010

I walked through the summer time with its long sunburned days and short tender nights
I grew my roots deep to satisfy my thirst and my green foliage leisurely sang secrets of the earth
I can recall now, that very afternoon, there were two kids under my shadow completely giving themselves to one another
I brought them, then, asleep and I grew mellow my evening’s fruit
They were fed all night long the cell of their land I had transformed; and they spoke out stories from distant hours and other ground: stories that juice dropped up to the mouth roof
There is an infinite journey inside this very apricot you’re biting

greek version








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