Lust for Spring
Lust for spring
spreading all over
Επιθυμία για την άνοιξη
Se extiende por todas partes
Hamlet of The Moon
You fooled the azure skies above, and hexed them to black flame
since life has been a gift to you, without the least of charge,
the voices of a madding crowd, sounded all the same
with your drugged emotions that echoed falsely large.
Turn of the Year
As ever, again at this tide and time,
when a year sets in and a year flows hence-
As ever again the querulous rhyme
Of an ancient song fills my inner sense:
“Turn of the Year, turn of the year-
But does any turn in the road appear?”
When my years were fewer my hopes were stirred,
And vows I made (as you made them, too!)
Wiser to be in both deed and word,
The Old Year’s error to change in the New.
Yet I was but I – as the years flowed past,
And the ancient rhyme but mocked me, at last!
You ask me
what I’ve discovered
as I gauge your will to suffer
by the length of the pause I pose
between us. If you hold my eyes
and don’t smile but slightly frown
where sad news frowns
I won’t need to prophesy
for your search has began
When the sea is glittering gold
When you are driving on ehte roads of our occupied villages and towns
Bogazi, Koma Tou Yialou, Trikomo, the pain is profound
Euphemisms of an old lady
The old lady had never learned anything else in her life except to drop
blessings from her lips, as if the blessings sustained her.
Her eyelash colour faded, her face was a mass of wrinkles. “Daughter, give
me the votive candle so I may light it, and may you reign like a queen one
On Sundays, in the courtyard under the vine, they’d turn on the radio. ”
Daughter, bring the radio, and may you pick up soil and have it turned to gold
in your hands”.
Her legs were unable to take much walking anymore, she didn’t go to church
Last night I took a picture of my mother
Standing next to the statue of Grigoris Afxentiou.
‘Stand there so I can take a picture of you, too’, she whispered
I never stand next to statues to be photographed
Yet for some reason, I obeyed without refusing,
Intuitively I leaned my head tenderly on the statue; hugged it.
I awaited you
Yet again you’ve not kept your promise
I waited for you
so we could drink together under the stars
the valley’s secrets, and the never-sleeping aromas of the summer
on the nights, when Ai-Loukas’ few candles
bathed the moon in their light
and when to cinderella-night we wished to sell
still one more tale
lest it be lost in the haystack.