Letting it breathe

  

  As in a glass hive my soul moved inside me,

          a joyful bee-swarm

  that, secretly increasing, seeks to release into the trees

          its grapelike cluster.

  And I felt the earth was crystal beneath my feet,

          the soil transparent,

  for the strong and peaceful bodies of ancient plane trees

          rose up around me. 

   

  There the old wine was opened for me, smelling rich

          in the oaken jar,

  as mountain scents when the cool night dew

          falls on the bushes.

Angelos Sikelianos

Thalero

  [fragment]

Edmund Keeley and

  Philip Sherrard, translation

The Greek Poets

op. cit.

Taylor Cowan