George Seferis
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| He grew old between the fires of Troy and the quarries of Sicily. He was fond of caves along the beach and of the sea's drawings; he realised men's veins are like a net spread by the gods to trap us like wild beasts and tried to pierce it. He was cross-grained, his friends were few; when it was time, the dogs tore him to pieces. From Log Book, III (1955) |
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| Translation © John Stathatos, 2007 |
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