by Odysseas Elytis
DEATH AND RESURRECTION
OF CONSTANTINE PALAIOLOGOS
OF CONSTANTINE PALAIOLOGOS
I
As
he stood there erect before the Gate
and
impregnable in his sorrow
Far
from the world where his spirit sought
to
bring Paradise to his measure
And
harder even than stone
for
no one had ever looked
on
him tenderly - at times his crooked teeth
whitened
strangely
And
as he passed by with his gaze a little
beyond
mankind and from them all
extracted
One who smiled on him
The
Real one
Whom
death could never seize
He
took care to pronounce the word
sea
clearly that all the dolphins
within
it might shine
And
the desolation so great it might
contain
all of God
and
every waterdrop ascending steadfastly toward
the
sun
As
a young man he had seen gold glittering
and
gleaming on the shoulders of the great
And
one night
he
remembers
during
a great storm the neck of the sea
roared
so it turned murky
but
he would not submit to it
The
world's an oppressive place to live through
yet
with a little pride it's worth it.
II
Dear
God what now
Who
had to battle with thousands
and
not only his loneliness
Who?
He
who knew with a single word
how
to slake the thirst of entire worlds
What?
From
whom they had taken everything
And
his sandals with their criss-crossed
straps
and his pointed trident
and
the wall he mounted every afternoon like
an
unruly and pitching boat
to
hold the reigns against the weather
And
a handful of vervain
which
he had rubbed on a girl's cheek
at
midnight
to
kiss her
(how
the waters of the moon gurled
on
the stone steps three cliff-lengths
above
the sea...)
Noon
out of night
And
not one person by his side
Only
his faithful words that mingled
all
their colors to leave in his hand
a
lance of white light
And
opposite
along
the whole wall's length
a
host of heads poured in plaster
as
far as his eyes could see
"Noon
out of night - all life a radiance!"
he
shouted and rushed into the horde
dragging
behind him an endless golden line
And
at once he felt
the
final pallor
overmastering
him
as
it hastened from afar.
III
Now
as
the sun's wheel turned more and more swiftly
the
courtyards plunged into winter and once
again
emerged red from the geranium
And
the small cool domes
like
blue medusae
reached
each time higher to the silverwork
the
wind so delicately worked as a painting
for
other times more distant
Virgin
maidens
their
breasts glowing a summer dawn
brought
him branches of fresh palm leaves
and
those of the myrtle uprooted
from
the depths of the sea
Dripping
iodine
While
under his feet he heard
the
prows of black ships
sucked
into the great whirlpool
the
ancient and smoked seacraft
from
which still erect with riveted gaze
the
Mothers of God stood rebuking
Horses
overturned on dumpheaps
a
rabble of buildings large and small
debris
and dust flaming in the air
And
there lying prone
always
with an unbroken word
between
his teeth
Himself
the
last of the Hellenes!
