They’re thronging, returning

By Dimcho Debelyanov


Dis-moi, dis-moi guerrirai-je
De ce qui est dans mon coeur…
Francis Jammes.

They’re thronging, returning, they roar like tumultuous wave of a sea stirred and drunk on its unstoppable force – beneath their heavy steps it’s as though the exhausted earth rings, here every day is a day with no rest, every night – sleepless.

Who are they? They’re nameless and you’re nameless amongst them, you sink into their stifled complaints and their crude celebration and wait resigned for the fiesta of bloody laughter when fate will blow darkness over your world.

And how strange it is amid the thunder of this evil whirlwind where we are all one and all nevertheless on our ow to recall and murmur some tearful verse from the mellow elegies of Francis Jammes.


(1916 on the Thessaloniki front)