WINTER GRAPES
They took her toys and her lover. So she bowed her head and almost died. But her thirteen roots like her fourteen years smote with sword the elusive disaster. No one spoke. No one ran to the protective ward against the transmarine sharks who had already eyed her as a flie doth eye a diamond a land enchanted. And so this story was brusquely forgotten as by the forest ranger the lightning is forgotten in the woods.
— Andreas Embirikos, from ΥΨΙΚΑΜΙΝΟΣ (1935), tr. by C. A. Corbell