The Dream

Mother, you had two sons,

two trees, two rivers,

two Venetian castles,

two mint bushes, two joys.

One went to the East

the other to the West

and you alone between them

speak, you ask the sun:

Sun, who sees the mountains

who sees the rivers too,

wherever you see our troubles

and mothers who are poor,

If you see Pavlos call me,

if you see Andreas, tell me.

I raised them with a sadness

I bore them with a sob.

But they leave mountains behind 

and cross the deep rivers.

Each one seeks the other

to fight him to the death.

And there on the highest peak

up on the highest ridge,

they lie beside each other

dreaming the same dream.

Both run to their mother

lying on her deathbed;

together they reach out

their hands to close her eyes

and they plunge their knives deep

down into the earth

and water gushes out

to drink, to quench one’s thirst.