

Let your hands go traveling if you can here on time's curve with the ship that touched the horizon. When the dice struck the flagstone when the lance struck the breast-plate when the eye recognized the stranger and love went dry in punctured souls;
when looking around you see
feet harvested everywhere
dead hands everywhere
eyes darkened everywhere;






when you can’t any longer choose
even the death you wanted as your own-
hearing a cry,
even the wolf’s cry,
your due:


















let your hands go traveling if you canverse from
free yourself from unfaithful time
and sink-
So sinks whoever raises the great stones.
Santorini – The Naked Child
By: George Seferis