Souda Bay Beat

REQUIESCAT

by: Oscar Wilde

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.


There is something very ancient about this place making it seem very relevant too. I know it's Greece so ancient is pretty obvious but it's just that this place, the beauty of the bay, the Americans here in force, goats with their dreamy bells, fighter jets, kindness of people who clearly have so little & the small matter that history tells us Zeus was born here....

The photo is literally at the tavern where we had lunch and the olive tree is on the beach and the sea sits literally 3 feet away. Quite incredible what joys a country in crisis has at its fingertips!

A piece of dreamery from the Wildemaster seemed eminently sensible.

A

X