Ανασκαλεύοντας μετά από δεκαετίες την πιο παλιά βιβλιοθήκη μου στο χωριό. Αντιγράφω, με όλα τα λάθη, ένα ποίημα που έγραψα τον Απρίλη του 1970, στο πίσω μέρος του οπισθόφυλλου του βιβλίου το Σαρτρ "Critique de la raison dialectique".
To My Goddess
(How have I been able to forsee her? 4-10-71)
Her hair was like a golden stream
that glittered in sunshine,
of crowns the most beautiful
Any princess could not find
Her cheeks were the most beautiful
that one has ever seen
her lips were the most roseful
that kissed have never been
But what was shining above all
upon that fine face
the almond - like diamonds
her eyes, how could one face
Their spark was that of thousand stars
that melted our young hearts.
Their spark revealed worlds of love,
of beauty, of fun, that hurts
Our youngsters' pride, to fall on knee
in that divine to pray
goddess, that smiling kneels
upon us, the desperate.
This is the only English poem that I have ever written, delivered as an assignment commissioned by our teacher in English. Do you like it? I do not consider myself as a poet, even as a moderate one. That's why I am proud of it. It causes me smile whenever I read it.
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