Πέμπτη, 24 Απριλίου 2014

Stin Ameriki


The place where I grew up nurses a secret grievance:
that the sea did not consent to wash its soil.
But for all that, I know that the ocean's black wave
takes you right into the deep, or all the way to China,
A! and to America, together with Marika, Dousia and Kostis.
The place where I grew up nurses a secret grievance:
that the sea did not consent to wash its soil.
But for all that, I know that the ocean's black wave
takes you right into the deep, or all the way to China,
A! and to America, together with Marika, Dousia and Kostis.

I watch them inside my eyes, on the old ship,
clinging to the deck like barnacles, all the emigrants:
mute women, unspeaking, saving their strength,
little children who do not realize what road they are walking.
A! Those were heavy cargoes, in the old days, leaving for America.

The curly hair of Katsaros flies in the wind
as he looks backwards to the place of his birth.
The wind brings to his ears beloved songs
that he used to play on his guitar, it has brought them to me too,
A! and to America, together with Marika, Dousia and Kostis.

And as the ragged ship unloads in the harbour,
the foreign policemen will stack them in rows.
Some will find their way and thrive,
and others will never quench their thirst until they die.
A! In America... Greece, like a wild weed, you took root there too.
I watch them inside my eyes, on the old ship,
clinging to the deck like barnacles, all the emigrants...


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