'The intellectual rights of all texts, images, videos presented in this blog belong with their creators and/or publishers. They are presented here only for personal use and not for any monetary gain whatsoever.'
III The crop of September; rosy rinds hold up the house among the thousand deaths they hold it up while the untouchable moon passes over our dreams. In such concern I didn’t notice the small worm by the spring behind the eucalyptus; the small worm, the devil’s tool behind the mountain small insignificant it slid down from the cloud to the shrub and bit the leaf… we lost the crop, we the ignorant in the balcony, were foreseeing the crop of the house, oh Greece, the next morning I found you changed.
thinks you would make a great warrior, the way you were not afraid to take on even the biggest of the crew.” “I just do not like to see people being bullied. That’s all.” “Well, I think you are too brave to be a thrall.” “Thank you. Where did you learn to speak our language?” “We had Irish thralls when I was a boy in Thulé. I had a Celtic nurse.” “Thulé. I have never liked the cold. I don’t think I am going to like that place.” “We have ways to keep warm. And we have hot pools to bathe in.” “Where I come from, we do not bathe, except maybe once or twice in the summer. Never in winter.” Ari paused to change the subject. “I am sad our trees are disappearing. Settlers cut the trees for building and fuel and to make pasture for sheep.” He laid back, head supported on his hands as he gazed up to the sky. “When I was a boy, our forests grew from the shore right to the mountain tops. My elder brother, Melrakki, is named after the white fox. Now sheep farmers want to destroy the foxes because they kill sheep.” He paused to look toward Lorcan who listened open-mouthed. Then he continued more enthusiastically. “My brother and I used to ride horses that our father brought from Nörge. Now horses are used everywhere and people even eat horse meat on feast days. Do you hunt and fish?” “Yes. I fished with my father. He could catch the best trout with small hooks dressed up to look like flies. He used the thinnest sinews of gut tied to a long pole. I hope there is fishing in Paradise. I don’t think he will like it there otherwise.” “When we get to Thulé, I will ask my father to buy you. I will stay home and we can hunt and fish together. We hunt seals near my home and salmon and trout swim in our streams. We always eat well and never mind the winter cold.” Brother Rordan caught up to the Irish thrall, as before, sitting to relieve himself at the aft rail. Noticing Ul’s apparent embarrassment, Rordan turned his back. “I’m sorry about what I said about your name. That was stupid of me. I would really like to be your friend. I wish there were some way I could help you. I think I know what you’re going through.” When Ul didn’t reply, Rordan turned around. Once again, the boy was gone. The sun shone brilliantly on an almost calm sea as the Norsemen moved slowly around the southwest arm of Thulé jutting into more open water. Men watched the high craggy shore with its snow-covered peaks. Sheep bleated excitedly as if anticipating fresh pastures. Every captive on board knew tomorrow would bring new hardships in a harsh new environment. Stories had been told at Derry by priests who had served with pioneer Norse and their thralls that Thulé was a frozen hell at the edge of the civilized world. No slave was ever ransomed or earned his return from Thulé.
Lullaby Nightingale among the river reeds and the rooster crows the day, when you suddenly walk onto the other riverbank: the day I lost you! —You must get up early to water the lawn, do you hear me? The unbridgeable gap between us, ambivalence pleasing my indecisiveness to join you, and you lead your steps away from me as I wave my hand and let my tears drip as if from the fountain of despair —You always wait until the last minute before you do what I ask you, why? Eros, the sunset of the chiming bell rests on my lover’s eyelids when the opposite bank of the river takes you to your parallel world forever and in despair, I wave —Don’t get into bed so roughly, you make me dizzy with the water flowing everywhere. I have nothing else to do but let my tears dangle in midair —I wish I could turn the clock back
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 