TO THE POET L. MAVILES[20]
Aristides E. (Aristides Evangelus) Phoutrides translation
TO THE POET L. MAVILES[20]
Thy soul is seeking tranquil paths Alone; thou hatest barking mouths; And yet thy country's love enflames thee, O maker of the noble sonnet.
In the white alabaster vase Filled with pure native earth, a flower Of dream that only few can see Trembles and scatters fragrances.
Thy verse, the vase; thy mind, the flower. But a hand broke the vase, and now The azure beauty of the flower
Has found a mate in the powder's smoke Upon Crete's Isle, the blue sea's crown, Mother of bards and tyrant slayers.
1896.