POEM BY IOULITA ILIOPOULOS
CITY OF MUSIC
Small, multicolored musical squares
cobblestoned, where you step and
new sounds break up in the air
one night wearing a petticoat
and with a green dome on its hair
the night that turned into dawn
a band of light you passed over me
and closing my eyes as if feathers
a yellow night that turns into salinity
the river drop by drop
persistently persistent little lights like kisses
in her tiny hands as if of a marionette
a crypt, a fan, a voice
climbing slowly up in the air
and the elongated verdure on the ground
caresses as if silence, in a huge café where
the sounds go around in circles.
Trays with small glasses and sweets, gold signs
—which truth do the clocks count? —
music, you say.
A pink hydrangea and through the open window
a big heater made of porcelain and in very small letters
Salzburg of the nineteen hundred forever
Manolis Aligizakis 