Poem by Kostas Hatzopoulos
BLURRY EVENING
The evening comes, blear
and sad and faint,
my pain’s but your caress
since you believe I hurt
it tells your legend
softly to the evening
and cries as it narrates
like the echo of a song
or like a bell that breaks
with a slow, soft weeping
as it calls me to the street
and I call you too.
Manolis Aligizakis 