Odysseus Elytis (1911–1996)

Often, in the Repose of Evening her soul took a lightness from
                  the mountains across, although the day was harsh and
                  tomorrow foreign.

But, when it darkened well and out came the priest’s hand over
                  the little garden of the dead, She

Alone, Standing, with the few domestics of the night – the blowing
                  rosemary and the murmur of smoke from the kilns –
                  at sea’s entry, wakeful

Otherly beauty!

Continue reading “Beauty and the Illiterate”