Under the Regal Oak Tree

* This is my translation of an extract from the Greek writer Alexandros Papadiamantis' short story Under the Regal Oak Tree - Υπό την Βασιλικήν Δρύν

(…) I was exhausted, dripping, and panting. When I finally arrived I threw myself on the grass, unto the poppies and the chamomiles. Yet I was feeling deepened happiness and dreamy delight. I was musing whilst watching at her stiff branches, and my lips were attuned with the whiff of her aura and the thrust of her leaves. Hundreds of birds were resting on her branches, feasting in ecstatic songs. Dewiness, perfume, and harmony caressed my soul…

I was tired, and hadn’t a good night’s sleep the other night. Sleep was missing from me. Under the shadow of that colossal tree, in the middle of its flashing red poppies, Morpheus, like an extraordinary child, came and bewitched me, presenting me with forms.

It seemed to me that the tree- having rescued its meaning during sleep- was, little by little, transforming its countenance, species, and shape. At a point its roots appeared like two beautifully shaped calves, glued together one above the other. Then they detached and split into two. The trunk looked as if it was reforming and reshaping into a waist, an abdomen, and a chest, with two exquisite pools protruding. Its two gigantic branches gave the impression of two arms - hands craving the infinite, then coming willingly towards the earth, where I was still sleeping. The dense, evergreen foliage seemed like the bountiful hair of a maiden, emerging upwards- then loose, wavering going downwards. (…)

* Painting Rocky Hill with Oak by Vincent Van Gogh,

* This is my translation & interpretation of Papadiamantis' work

#translation