Of olives and cypress, breasts, birds,
Stinging and perspiration’s siege,
Roots climbing out of centuries.
P
Beauty, the wedding is over and I am alone with my lighted lamps and moonlight across the sea, night’s indifference.
Beauty, Kleis was happy...many of us were happy.
After the ceremony, Pittakos approached me, shuffling, dressed as I had never seen him dressed, in fine white clothes. His hate was gone, that was something I saw at once: I was seeing another man. Speaking guardedly, hands folding and unfolding his robe, he said:
“...They would have stoned me. What can I say...to make amends? You stopped them from killing me... You...you helped me...”
I grew confused. Remembering Alcaeus’ threat, my hatred surged and I thought: Can he expect me to rub out the past because of an accident on my part? Can he ask such a thing?
Do you think that I have changed—that I went out of my way to save you?