A man in a village by Kostis Palamas

A man in a village by Kostis Palamas

A man in a village by Kostis Palamas From another land a man came to a village. The village seemed submerged in a dale. Around, the slopes of the village, like walls of a live green coloured prison. And said the man to the villagers: - How beautiful and how big it seems the world arround you! And they replied to him the villagers: - Its true! Only green plants are surrounding us. Our mountains we have, our mountains. We have our olive trees as well. We make our living from those. Over there at the foot of the mountain two three times per year we organize very vivid festivals and we revel. We set it up under the shadow of the pine tree. We knit wreaths from myrtle branches and we wear them on. The big green belt of the dale ties us tightly winder summer. When we don't dig and when we don't plow, we enjoy it from our windows. And he told them then the man: - Something else I wanted to tell you. The world arround you, the beautiful and the big one, it is not feasible dear people, to enjoy from your windows. Go ahead, climb the mountain, go further on from your festivals there at the mountain root, higher, higher, and until its top you reach. And after you reach there, then take a look a wide one, far arround you, to the depths and to the widths, toward the horizons, that you don't see and you don't have from your windows. Skies, oceans, all the colors and all the light, the entire creation, whole around you. You will see then there there there, out of the way, at the bottom, a small trace white one that a narrow zone will swaddle it in deep green. And it will be your village with its dale. But then, when you will look at it from far far away, as something little and as something foreign and as something distant, when you will see it the whole of it, collected, as something alive, organic or as one well crafted painting in its frame; an icon, that even if it's small, it does not loose anything from its grace; then my people, when you shall look at the smallness and the humility of your village in front of the universe, then together you shall feel inside of you more deeply the love for your village. Because you will see that it can't exist as separated your fatherland, that she is her as well tightly tied with the other stones around on the ring of the world; that it is something hard to separate from the whole. From the love for the village that doesn't know and doesn't see horizons, that does not distinguish nothing far away, it is incomparably more important and more fruitful the love that the patria does not distinguish it from the universe. It is the love that loves not from the low windows, is the love from the mountain tops. The words of the man found their way in the village. And from mouth to mouth, since they were also hard to understand somewhat for the poor villagers, changed, they took other meanings also. And from mouth to mouth they reached to the ears of the master who had the village as if it was his manor and the villagers as inferiors. And said in his mind the boss: - Now he shall have them bewitched this deceiver my people. He will light up in them the longing for the long streets and the yearning for the high ascentings. He shall distract them from their work, he will have them quit from their wages, he will convert them to idles and snobbish. Indifferents he will make them toward their houses and towards my employment. They will lift their foreheads. From great workers, they will become despisers. They will become reduced the available hands and they will be jeopardized my belongings. And he shouted to his subordinates: - Drive away and overthrow from here that evil man, this drivel speaker, the gypsy and the unclean. He will infect your village. He doesn't have patria and has come to teach us the contempt towards whatever God has given to us most holly and more honest: Towards the fatherland. And he put the slaves to throw stones to the man. END