poem+about+the+siege+of+constantinople

I
 * Odysseas Elytis**

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 might shine And the desolation so great it might contain all of God and every water drop ascending steadfastly toward the sun

As a young man he had 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 taken everything And his sandals with their crisscrossed straps and his pointed trident and the wall he mounted every afternoon like an unruly and pitching boat to hold the reigns against the water

And a handful of vervain which he had rubbed against 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 if night And not one person by his side Only his faithful words that mingled all their colors to leave in his mind a lance of white light

And opposite along the whole wall's length a host of heads poured in plaster as far as his eye 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 into 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 sea-craft from which still erect with riveted gaze the Mothers of God stood rebuking

Horses overturned on dump-heads 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!