Odysseus Elytis

O
Odysseus Elytis
The Presence
MARIA NEFELE:
I walk in thorns in the dark
of what’s to happen and what has
with my only weapon my only defense
my nails purple like cyclamens.

ANTIPHONIST:
I saw her everywhere. Holding a glass and staring in space. Lying down
listening to records. Walking the streets in wide trousers and an old
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Beauty and the Illiterate
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
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For Efessos
Freely beside me the vineyards are running and unbridled
Remains the sky. Wildfires trade pinecones and one
Donkey bolts uphill
for a little cloud
St. Heracleitos’s day and something’s up
That even noses can’t diagnose:
Tricks of a shoeless wind snagging the hem
Of Fate’s nightgown and leaving
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The Little Mariner
Spotlight a

SCENE ONE: Open-air court in the ancient city of Athens. The accused arrive
and proceed among curses and cries of Death! Death!

SCENE TWO: A jail in the same city, beneath the Acropolis, walls half-eaten by
dampness. On the ground, a miserly straw mat and in the corner,
an earthenware jar of water. On the outside wall, a shadow: the
guard.

SCENE THREE: Constantinople. In the harem of the Holy Place, in candlelight,
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