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Dionysos
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A Prison
A prison
--how did they reach us there --
a prison
my life a prison.
Without sentence
-how did they reach us there--
or judge
my life a prison.
At Makriyannis
before you could even speak
a British volley brought you to your knees.
You looked at us sadly
I suppose you were thinking
how little the day lasted.
In the squares, each one sitting by himself
you stamped our fated loneliness
with your sad look
who will tell the secret
in our lost life.
The Bear
A chain tied around my neck
I’m a bear; I dance a gypsy dance.
In the stadiums they train me
to greet the angry crowds
Together with monkeys
they make me bow to the fierce crowds.
Silent angels enter my cell
the end has come, the beginning hasn’t come yet.
Vision
High in their hands they hold
black cloths and they lament,
the black mother of the world,
like candles.
To lighten the depths of Tartarus
and waken the blond archangel.
To make a calm light,
a universal song,
to flood the world
and lead us on
through the icicles of the abyss
before the gates of Paradise.
On the Tenth of December
They’re sending the boy off in the bitter cold
his hands are crossed on his chest
he has no name, no family
his youth was an offering to the spring.
On the tenth of December
a fantastic procession
of dead boys and girls
pass happily by in spring
and spring covers them in flowers
ideally
their bodies joined in brotherhood.
As I look at the pale boy
he begins, in my mind, a different journey
for those of us who lived back then
and whatever we believed has remained buried.
© Mikis Theodorakis
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