Greek Poet ILIAS FOUKIS

Greek Poet      ILIAS   FOUKIS
Poetry is the voice of the Gods

Tuesday, February 1, 2022

THE FRUIT BEARING TREE. Poem by ILIAS FOUKIS

 THE FRUIT  BEARING  TREE  



The point here that l've reached

And exactly as l am..

With plenty of fruits, handsome and slender-made..

I know what lies ahead of me from you

And what is expected..

After being born and swept away 

and scanned by the divine open- wind..

The Princess Spring did me so..

And the ingenious, resourceful Summer..



I am ashamed of my riches and beauty

I am afraid and l shiver to the thought

That invasions of rabid and barren people                                                  will come

and infertility..

When this unfortunate world 

sees the view of True Loveliness

and the aura of Fertility...



You will stone me with rocks underneath

Persistently..as you only know..

Until you take what you want

With hatred and merciless savageness...

And l will fall to your knees 

and into your hands..

-"Oh, how tasty he is and what a mature fruit he is..

God looks over us

the poor people"..

Oh, you'll laugh...



And my Soul will become

An ancient greek city

That Barbariousness looted..



I am here, sent by God,

To be offered as a trophy

For our own cruelty..

You can climb up my body

There where you have never seen..

High..with impetus..

Towards the chosen things of the Sky 

l mean..


God shouldn't have done it

But still he did..



God knew something when he said:

"In this world

The good entity and the bad will live..

At the end of righteousness

The crooked things will start..

And at the bottom of Chosen Beings

Stupid mongs will give sprouts"..



And as you will be content

By the Good Juices and the Chosen Blood

You'll become Lords and Tyrants

And great glories you will experience...

While l..

As to give birth to these precious fruits..

I shed a million tears and experienced 

such dreadful pain..



You will give me away to oblivion

Leaving me to beg for a little mercy

From the very frosty winter

Without even casting upon me

A suit jacket for my shoulders...



And many other things you can do..

And many other atrocities you will perform..


Whereas you can't give birth to fruits

And beauty for the sake of the people..



You can only lay the road 

that was made

for the dreams of the world 

with thorns..



And as for your own infertility..

Always a price will be given

So the fruit bearing trees

Shall pay you..


Anyway

the purpose of poverty

sanctifies all means..


And now hurt by all the strikes of your hunger..                                                    

Hurt by ingratitude

that l took from this world..

I want to shout..if l have a voice..


-"Mother Earth

You were unjust..

Why did you cause me 

So much suffering and confusion

And you made me so Handsome!!!..

You should have thought better

Before you gave birth to me

As a fruit bearing tree...



Translated from greek 

into english by

Vasiliki Kolliopoulou Kalahani