POEM BY ANTONIS FOSTIERIS
Voyage of the Hours
There are some nights
sadly futile
and some days
that travel through time
like lazy galleys.
Some southwestern winds
control them
and they go back and forth
aimlessly in the open sea.
There are some empty hours
silent and cold
that dance on the waves
like foolish crafts
and there are some tired seamen
who until they die
dream of reaching a land
that they never reach.
Manolis Aligizakis 