The Song of the Earth


The spirit of the heavens was silent,

the depths of the worlds were waiting,

the heights wove colours

and breadth echoed the cries.

Among them, a field of stars,

small and charming,

gave birth to seeds from low down as far as dreams

and the flags of the sward began to stream

and the wind rode upon the corn

like a fair-maned Pegasus of the poems

and the waters at the far ends of the fields

washed the loneliness of the earth with infinity.


Above, the boundlessness of the heavens

and on the earth the immensity of the oceans.

Distances and waters rolled all round

and in the vitals always the same truth:

fire, the image of the heavens and of the abyss.


And more than all else,

the anvil of the spirit

the regulator who joined the images with the Absolute,

the loom of time

and the immersion in the farthest veil of the unknown,

the family home in the thick of the field.

And then I was waking to the accomplishment of consummation

with the victory of the inexpressible.

From the depths of the field

the greatest things of life eternally present

in the perfection of the Creator.


(Photograph by Yiannis Zisis)