The Poetry of Lambros Porphyras: A Selection - Triceratops Home

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48 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA riA (MA !BYNOYN 112‘ xpiva avUoyiCop,at, xAtoitat %at paytaplva, craOt 6axpua pawctattiva iroya-ctItU cOrilg, Tea pdaa to gxucsay Otyy6v, &vOtvov otitta aydat a' OtOthrtito xcavaXt, aviiv ciptcatit r4; TN. Tat optiXAct stal. Tat ainvespa, sou cpstlyouv xat TZEOOLIVOUV, tex. Siv.tpa va Onop,ivouv ttolpa Tour notpa, Eyrt p.sEvat axtrtrao %at xa0e-rt nob nip-cat, arijc Attawylg Iby xatOpiaprq Taa vaticpcapca %Jalapa. Kt axdp.at auXAoylCapat, p,i tat& OA tttiyii gvvotaa, tia xipta via xepivta —6! anapayp.bc xpucpbs!xi iaac lacatdotta. noi.) .1auxct, xatto 6Xicpcapa mac, ac& altaratvac yap& acs, 6aatAatPs .c6 apcbg
The Poetry of Lambros Porphyras: A Selection 49 FOR ALL THINGS THAT VANISH I think of the lilies, pale and torn, sprinkled with the tears of compassionate dawn, the roses which slowly shade the pure flower-blood into an unseen canal, into the earth's embrace. The leaves and the clouds, which depart and die, the trees enduring their fate sadly, whatever remains motionless and whatever falls on the mirror of the lake— the dead water lilies. And still I think, with a sorrowful care, of the waxen hands —oh! secret rending!— and you, dear eyes, where quietly, beneath your lashes, in your dark waters, the light has set ... —translated by Bette Anne Farmer
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The Poetry of Lambros Porphyras: A Selection - Triceratops Home

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