 |
Μεσ᾿ ἀπ' τὸ βάθος τῶν καλῶν καιρῶν
οἱ ἀγάπες μας πικρὰ μᾶς χαιρετᾶνε.
Δὲν ἀγαπᾷς καὶ δὲ θυμᾶσαι, λές.
κι ἂν φούσκωσαν τὰ στήθη κι ἂν δακρύζεις
ποὺ δὲν μπορεῖς νὰ κλάψεις ὅπως πρῶτα,
δὲν ἀγαπᾷς καὶ δὲν θυμᾶσαι, ἂς κλαῖς.
Ξάφνου θὰ ἰδεῖς δυὸ μάτια γαλανὰ
- πόσος καιρός! - τὰ χάιδεψες μιὰ νύχτα·
καὶ σὰ ν᾿ ἀκοῦς ἐντός σου νὰ σαλεύει
μιὰ συφορὰ παλιὰ καὶ νὰ ξυπνᾷ.
Θὰ στήσουνε μακάβριο τὸ χορὸ
οἱ θύμησες στὰ περασμένα γύρω·
καὶ θ᾿ ἀνθίσει στὸ βλέφαρο σὰν τότε
καὶ θὰ πέσει τὸ δάκρυ σου πικρό.
Τὰ μάτια ποὺ κρεμοῦν - ἥλιοι χλωμοί -
τὸ φῶς στὸ χιόνι της καρδιὰς καὶ λιώνει,
οἱ ἀγάπες ποὺ σαλεύουν πεθαμένες
οἱ πρῶτοι ξανὰ ποὺ ἄναψαν καημοί...
|  |
From the depth of good times
our loves greet us bitterly.
You’re not in love, you say, and you don’t remember.
And if your heart has filled and you shed the tears
that you couldn’t shed like you did at first,
you’re not in love and you don’t remember, even though you cry.
Suddenly you’ll see two blue eyes
- how long it’s been! - that you caressed one night;
as though inside yourself you hear
an old affliction stirring and waking up.
These memories of past time
will begin their dance macabre;
and like then, your bitter tear will
well up on your eyelid and fall.
The eyes suspended - pale suns -
the light that thaws the frozen heart,
the dead loves that begin to stir
the old sorrows that again ignite...
|
