Greek Avant Garde Poetry


Michael Mitsakis


Like the oaks  on the mountains

that  fear  neither the lightning's  strike,

nor  the demon's  ax

I  will nail  my foot  firmly  on the ground

tumultuous spirit, harmonious and mad.


I will tell you good  news

and sonorous  oracles.

Amazed  by light and air 

feeling  my blood  hot

under  the vapors  of the forest,

the old tales of dumb pastures

I will make them rise again rejuvenated

with their nimble  and slender  grace

goldened  by the brightest  rays

through pines and beeches,

you will  hear me bring you

the simple and rude language
of  peasants and idlers;

with pure intentions without motives,

they  will roll, laugh and shout

free  of  caustic soda!

(Transl. from French Panos Bosnakis)