Spring sunlight filters through new leaves
in this wood near Athens;
the ozone of the sea not far away
livens the nostrils of the hopeful student
pausing in front of the marble columns.
The pause is a departure and an arrival:
there’s dust on his sandals;
he’s come from far away;
who knows how far?
How many times has his spirit
been washed by Lethe’s oblivion?
That forgetting which by grace
may lead to a remembering?
The student and the columns of the portico
shining white in their new marble in the sunlight,
both for a moment still; yet
in another world, the spirit of the student
and the spirit of the Academy itself
fly to meet each other;
the goddess, bare arms open,
greets her worshipper of truth.
We the Chorus, witnessing the beauty of this scene
indescribable; immortal; full of truth,
speak of the gods who watch eternally;
recall in measured words
Odysseus, returning to his homeland;
his mind, like his faithful dog,
waking to its long awaited master.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem