In the wordless darkness of a womb –
The chemical archive of the cutter:
Mr Albert Smith is looking through the spume,
To find hidden islands of the silent mutter.
Every image, on the filmstrip, lingers,
Peeking through his looking glass,
Then slipping down through his feeble fingers,
Spinning the history fast:
An old man with skin of toffee,
Sun-dried from the sun,
With tongue burning, bitter coffee,
Shown when the strip is spun,
Then a hero, our two-blood lord,
His roots in Cappadocia,
The son to an Emir, must ford,
Through mountains, then to Anatolia.
Next, a young girl, stands barefoot,
Still in hushed remorse,
Among the arches of her ancestors,
She veils her black curls.
Smith spins the filmstrip one more time,
But a golden leaf’s splash,
And the umbilical chain’s chime,
Force his scissors to hush.
Ο παππους, stands ups from his τσαερα, πάντοτε μελαχρινος;
Ο Διγενής Ακρίτας places palm on Πενταδάκτυλος;
Η κορη, let’s her heavy veil fall:
It stumps the sea and shatters the wall.
Ο παππους – O pappous, the grandfather
τσαερα – tsaera, chair in cypriot dialect
πάντοτε μελαχρινος – as always dark
Διγενής Ακρίτας – Digenes Akritas, a Byzantine hero from legends – half-Turkish, half-greek.
Πενταδάκτυλος – the mountain range in Kyrenia, Cyprus, from where Digenes Akritas jumped towards Anatolia
Η κορη – I kori, the girl
Nadejda Nikolaeva
