Every Olive Tree

Has its Own Tale

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(collection Visionary)
And it was as if an unseen hand
rested on my shoulder,
and I thought I was leading some
blind man on the night way.
I could hear in my ear the unwritten,
deep law of creation.
And I opened my eyelids
wide, big,
lest even one drop
of the great light be split;
as the olive trees around me
in the wood, late at night,
shone with the secret
oil that fills them.
And as he went on up,
staring into the distance,
like Odysseus I wiped
the tear from my eyelids.
Angelos Sikelianos in The Shade of Homer:
A Study in Modern Greek Poetry by David Ricks,
Cambridge University Press, 1989.