POEM BY KOSTAS KARIOTAKIS
AS I DIE
In the relaxed time of the vernal twilight, my wounded soul,
what futile effort as you’ll fold your wings
when redemption you’ll long for something
poor soul, forever sad and desperate
when you reach the end of your line you’ll find
hatred and love, passions and vile always vanish
when the disappointment, like myrrh rises
from the exquisite flowers of life, my dreamy soul
that special moment when with a simple smile
you’ll remember enemies and friends
futile soul what will you say to the sea and to the wind,
my closed heart, when you stand opposite the pale dusk?
Manolis 