Yannis Ritsos
BRING OUT the wooden pony with the red saddle, we'll pursue the shadows of waters before evening catches up with us with its long fairy tales and wintry fires.
Time doesn't apply when the sun hangs gold fringes on the doors of the forest.
Bushes take their green aprons off and bathe secretly in the river.
Afternoons, when the grownups slept, the children left the houses, rolled in the grass, bit the chaste-tree leaves and embraced the trees.
Everywhere, the woods was scented by naked women.
Large butterflies revealed the secrets of spring and lizards with emerald eyes eavesdropped strangely from behind the stones throughout the night.
We didn't notice the fences.
We prayed later that the jackdaws wouldn't say anything to our mothers about what happened among the resin-dripping trees.
from Midday Summer Dream (1938) [Collected Poems: Alpha ---pg 342-343]
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