II
One more well inside a cave.
At other times it was easy for us to draw up idols and
ornaments
to please some friends who were still loyal to us.
Now the ropes are broken; only the grooves on the
well’s lip
remind us of our past happiness
the fingers on the well’s lip, as the poet put it.
The fingers feel the coolness of the stone, a little
that the body’s heat prevails over it
and the cave gambles its soul and loses it
every moment, filled by silence, without a drop of water.
Manolis 