"The Cistern": Seferis and Coulentianos

 

Here in the earth a cistern has taken root

den of secret water that gathers there.

Its roof, resounding steps. The stars

don’t blend with its heart. Each day

grows, opens and shuts, doesn’t touch it.

The world above opens like a fan

and plays with the wind’s breath

in a rhythm that expires at sunset

flaps its wings hopelessly and throbs

at the whistling of a destined suffering.

On the curve of a dome of pitiless night

cares tread, joys move by

with fate’s quick rattle

faces light up, shine a moment

and die out in an ebony darkness.

Faces that go! In rows, the eyes

roll in a gutter of bitterness

and the signs of the great day 
take them up and bring them closer

to the black earth that asks no ransom.

George Seferis, poem one of the sequence “The Cistern”, translation by  E. Keeley and P. Sherrard.

Published in 1932, “The Cistern” marked Seferis’ abandonment of a rhymed, lyrical mode in favor of a more natural and freer one that is characteristic of all his later poems; the Greek sculptor Kostas Coulentianos (1918-1995) did some drawings for this poem which were first exhibited in Paris in 1950; in 1975 the Greek publishing firm “Themelio” issued a folio containing the drawings as well as the poem in Seferis’ own handwriting—exquisite—the poem seems to be chiseled onto the paper.

Of course I don't remember where/when I found this treasure but at least I know how much I paid for it because it’s penciled in on the last page: 300 drachmas then or approximately .80 euro now or about $1.08 as long as the US treasury lasts.

William Michaelian, eat your heart out!