He grew old between the fires of Troy
and the quarries of Sicily.
He liked sea-shore caves and pictures of the sea.
He saw the veins of men
as a net the gods made to catch us in like wild beasts:
he tried to break through it.
He was a sour man, his friends were few;
when his time came he was torn to pieces by dogs.
- George Seferis (1900-1971)
Translated by Edmund Keely & Philip Sherrard
A small room, the varnished floor
Making an L around the bed,
What is or is true as
Windows opening on the sea,
The green painted railings of the balcony
Against the rock, the bushes and the sea running
- George Oppen (1908-1984)
from Of Being Numerous (1967)
The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.
- Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921)