Agianapa II
Verses for music
Under the old sycamore
wildly the wind played
with the birds with the branches
but never spoke to us.
Welcome, breath of my soul
we opened our hearts
come inside come and drink
from our desire.
Under the old sycamore
the wind got up and left
to the castles of the north and never touched us.
Oh my thyme and rosemary hold your breast tightly
and find cave and find a den
and hide your oil lamp.
This isn’t wind of Palm Sunday
it isn’t of the Resurrection
but it’s wind of fire and smoke
and of the joyless life
Under the old sycamore
dry the wind returned
it sniffed gold coins everywhere
and it sold us out.
Manolis Aligizakis 