When the Watchman Saw the Light Winter, summer, the watchman sat there looking out from the roof of Atreus' palace. Now he has good news to report. He's seen the fire light up in the distance and he's happy; besides, the drudgery's over now: it's hard to sit there night and day in heat and cold, waiting for a fire to show on the peak o...

A Great Feast at the House of Sosibius Lovely was my afternoon, extremely lovely. The oar grazes, very lightly, the Alexandrian sea, sweetly calm; caresses it. We need a respite like this: our toils oppress us. Let’s look at things innocently, serenely, every now and then. But evening’s fallen, regrettably. Look, I drank up all the win...

Sixteen Haiku And Other Stories An album by Sigmatropic. Original poetry in Greek by George Seferis. Lyrics translated from the Greek by Akis Boyatzis, assisted by Carla Torgerson and James Sclavunos. Translation was based on the book: “George Seferis, Collected Poems” by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, revised edition, Princeton Un...

Rest O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth; Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. She hath no questions, she hath no replies, Hush’d in and curtain’d with a blessèd dearth Of all that irk’d her from the hour of birth; With stillness that...

The Lemons Listen to me, the poets laureate move only among plants with rare names: boxwood, privet and acanthus. But I like roads that lead to grassy ditches where boys scoop up a few starved eels out of half-dry puddles: paths that run along the banks come down among the tufted canes and end in orchards, among the lemon trees. Better...

Montale’s Lemons My first snow, I open the pages of Montale, the scent of iron and light coming out of heads of lemon trees in the middle of an orchard where raucous boys play, not hearing the eel-quiet laureate who roams under a sky dappled with rust. He comes through the gate, plucks acanthus, unburdening himself of the city and the ...

Vittoria Colonna VITTORIA COLONNA, on the death of her husband, the Marchese di Pescara, retired to her castle at Ischia (Inarimé), and there wrote the Ode upon his death, which gained her the title of Divine. Once more, once more, Inarimé, I see thy purple hills!--once more I hear the billows of the bay Wash the white pebbles on thy s...

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