Pancakes
My good old friend Raphael was standing enigmatically
in front of the window flooded by the sea’s reflection and
the old lost things, “Raphael don’t bother yourself with
the beyond, let it be” I said to him as I was recuperating
from a long illness and I had such strange thoughts: to
extol a star, to love humanity or to become successful as
a poet of short tombstone verses. Until night came, time
when the street boys lick their lips under the full moon
that reminds them of auntie Thecla’s pancakes in the asylum
and the sea infiltrates God’s secrets because after each
difficult day a night comes no one knows how to spend.
Manolis Aligizakis 