Το Δάσος | Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος

Διονύσης Γιάκος, Ο Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος, 1947


                                                                                                     Τὸ Δάσος

                                                                                                    Δὲν ξεριζώνονται οἱ νύχτες ἀπὸ μέσα μας,
                                                                                                    βλασταίνουν φύλλα καὶ κλαδιὰ
                                                                                                    κι ἔρχονται τὰ πουλιὰ τοῦ ἔρωτα καὶ κελαηδοῦνε.

                                                                                                    Δὲν ξεριζώνονται οἱ νύχτες ἀπὸ μέσα μας,
                                                                                                    οἱ σπόροι τους φυτρώνουν δάσος σκοτεινό,
                                                                                                    στὶς λόχμες του ὁ φόβος ἐνεδρεύει.

                                                                                                    Ζῷα μικρὰ καὶ ζῷα ἄγρια τὸ κατοικοῦν,
                                                                                                    ὄχεντρες ἕρπουν καὶ ρημάζουν τὶς φωλιές μας,
                                                                                                   λιοντάρια ἑτοιμάζονται νὰ μᾶς ξεσκίσουν.

                                                                                                   Δὲν ξεριζώνονται οἱ νύχτες ἀπὸ μέσα μας,
                                                                                                   ἔγιναν δάσος σκοτεινὸ καὶ μᾶς πλακώνουν.


                                                                                                   συλ. Ὁ Ἀλλήθωρος

1 σχόλιο:




  1. Midway upon the journey of our life
    I found myself within a forest dark,
    For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
    Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
    What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
    Which in the very thought renews the fear.

    So bitter is it, death is little more;
    But of the good to treat, which there I found,
    Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

    I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
    So full was I of slumber at the moment
    In which I had abandoned the true way.

    But after I had reached a mountain's foot,
    At that point where the valley terminated,
    Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

    Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
    Vested already with that planet's rays
    Which leadeth others right by every road.

    Then was the fear a little quieted
    That in my heart's lake had endured throughout
    The night, which I had passed so piteously.


    The Divine Comedy / Inferno / Canto I / Dante Alighieri / c. 1308-1320

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