Spýros Vrettós
From: Unmoving Eyes (1992)
Bards
opening cave after cave
in our hunger for isolation.
An ascetic spring awaits us
and poems like locusts
in the season of grass.
And don't ask about summer,
we shall be slaves to thirst.
Of epic winters we have become the bards.
Translated by Peter Constantine
Page(s) 187
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