Εφτά Μήνες Μετά Seven Months Afterwards

WHEN EVERYTHING LEAVES EARLY

Nick came by train
along with that child,
whose mother had once said to mine
that he will ruin my life

Nick left in the night,
he never saw the rain,
he never heard Martha shouting
like in that strange morning

Our tears are ashamed to shed
when the moment demands to,
but when one night memories choke us,
the eyes become rivers and rain

The trains today crash children, animals and plants,
they run like hell, and whatever stands in their way
leaves early, even if everything seems to be positive


THE MOUNTAINS OF GREECE

The mountains of Greece
as much as a few mountains
have loved war,
Βut the taste that was left in their dry chests
was not that of war,
but that of the endless pleasure of the excursionists
and of the animal breeder’s children,
who laid there
their immost passions.


ABOUT PASSION ’03

(Goodnight, grandpa!)

Tonight I sleep in the city
and my every thought is a single thought,
a single word,
my whole language is a single word

Passion

5 in the morning,
after a painful, a frightful night

The sun rising from Paxos still burns my body.


THE SENTINELS OF MY KINDNESS

On a severe torture
- for the twelfth day
without water, without air
They found me honest,
mourning for feelings lost
and they tore me apart,
the sentinels of my what so ever kindness.


IF IT COULD SHUT UP (A SONG FOR THE SUMMER)

If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
the season that torments me now for years
If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
this sun that warms the seas
If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
this nature that menaces the sad one
If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
this hour that kills the dead

If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
this denial that keeps me in dead night
If it could shut up, if it could shut up forever,
this thought that has deprived me of any light
And then all that have silenced can speak again
And then all that have silenced can rise again


SHALL WE GO SACREDLY?

Here, on the chair of doom
I sit and I fight myself
The straight road of virtue is my tendency,
the thought of death is my silence

And then…

The laceration brings me closer
to the spirit sphere
A mother and a son enlighten my night
And the sunset is a pleasure for me,
the fields, the stars,
the children, the waters,
this world’s dreams
go ahead
and it’s incredible
how her voice resumes again
the absence in the sorrowful babies

Shall we go sacredly?