LEADER FROM WESTERN LYBIA

In general Alexandria liked

the Prince from Western Lybia

Aristomenis, the son of Menelaos,

who stayed there for ten days.

Like his name, his attire, fittingly Greek.

He gladly accepted the honors, but

he did not seek them; he was modest.

He bought Greek books,

mainly historical and philosophical.

Above all he was a man of few words.

He was profound in his thoughts, people said,

and for such men it is natural not to talk a lot.

But he was neither deep in his thoughts, nor anything else.

Just an ordinary, funny man.

He took a Greek name, dressed like the Greeks,

he learned how to behave like a Greek more or less;

and his soul trembled as if he would

to ruin the somewhat good impression he made

by speaking Greek with a few barbarisms,

and  the Alexandrians would make fun of him,

as it is their habit, those awful people.

For this reason he restricted himself to a few words,

being careful with the conjunctions and pronunciation;

and he was so terribly bored having

all those unspoken words piled up inside him.

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Χρυσόθεμις//Chrysothemis

Τη νύχτα, περασμένα μεσάνυχτα, ακούστηκε στο δρόμο,
κάτω ακριβώς απ’ τα παράθυρά μου, το βήμα ενός διαβάτη· —
ίσως ποτέ κανένας δεν περπάτησε μ’ αυτό τον τρόπο κάτω απ’ το φεγγάρι
κι ίσως ποτέ κανένας να μην είχε ακούσει όπως εγώ ένα τέτοιο βήμα.
Ήταν ο πρώτος άνθρωπος που ερχότανε στον κόσμο.
Ήταν ο τελευταίος που έφευγε απ’ τον κόσμο. Και, ποτέ, κανένας
δεν είχε ρθει μήτε είχε φύγει.
Όπως σας είπα,
ο κόσμος ήταν ζεστός, χνουδωτός, ολοπόρφυρος — χωρίς κανένα ρήγμα.
Μονάχα το φεγγάρι δρόσιζε το χνούδι μιας κουβέρτας που ’χε μείνει στο μπαλκόνι.

That night, past mid-night, the steps of a passerby were

heard outside, just under my window, perhaps no one

ever walked in that fashion under the moonlight and

perhaps no one ever had listened to those steps

the way I did. He was the first ever man who came

to the world. He was the last one to leave. And, then,

no one came no one left.

As I said,

the world was warm, fluffy, all purple, without any chasm.

Only the moon was freshening the fluff of the blanket that

was left on the balcony.

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2023 Longlist Announcement

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Poem from the book, “El Greco”

Red Carpet

Like a red carpet I lay my heart

before all the ethereal fleshless

images which you have graced

with life.

in front of your fiery passion

for greatness, charisma which

transcends the ephemeral,

the only means you need.

Great grandfather were men

the same in your days?

How did your Cretan glance

embrace them?

How did the Cretan sun

which you carried in your heart

shine on them?

Your ever enduring masterpieces

your endless inspiration but a

witness to your splendorous vision,

to your celestial fervor.

A witness to your

relentless effort to unfold,

one by one, man’s

heart like the petals of a rose.

A witness to your

undying yearning to transcend

one by one the layers

of a man’s caged substance.

Step by step on the ladder upwards.

Less flesh forward:

spirit only.

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IMAGINATION

Come, oh maiden, imagination

and you too ringleader thought

bring all the tireless workers

fairies of the rhythm

and bring the depth of lust

the heights of vision

and bring the flowers

made of gold and marble

the gleaming words

to build a palace and erect

the idol of the Sun inside it

and make it exquisitely great

adorable like a sun ray

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