Κυριακή 5 Νοεμβρίου 2017

ΠΑΤΡΙΚ ΚΑΒΑΝΑ!




PATRICK KAVANAGH


MEMORY OF MY FATHER

Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.

That man I saw in Gardiner Street

Stumble on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son. 

And I remember the musician

Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London.
He too set me the riddle. 

Every old man I see

In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me
"I was once your father."

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