THE BRIDGE (Excerpt)
But then you feel how suspicious this movement appears
to be
in the darkness nailed by stars, with the metallic sound
of keys
like swords clashing high up in the air of invisible gladiators
or horsemen
with this dark, huge mouth of the safe
that gapes open in the night while piles of coins, from
strange places and time shine in its bottom,
gold bars like huge nails for a crucifixion; stacks of paper bills
like secret playing cards of Fate. And all those who for
a moment accepted your offer, will throw their coins
on cobblestones soon after you turn your head, yet the coins
don’t make any sound; they’ll try to decipher the numbers
and seals of the bills, but they can’t be deciphered in
the amazing darkness,
so they throw them back at your feet again and leave.
And you remain alone with all your trampled wealth
alone in front of the magnetic open mouth of the empty
safe
alone before the uncovered hole of chaos,
one of your arms half-raised,
in a half-completed pose of theatrical generosity,
like the statue of a hero whose heroism
proved to be wrong after his death — or like an
endless effort
to become a statue that you won’t collapse on the ground;
a statue that in vain keeps, like a cluster of grapes,
the unacceptable keys of a paradise.
Manolis Aligizakis 