Match
Give me a match
he cried
just one match is needed
to light my fiery mind and
walking to the pulpit
he crossed himself before
taking communion
priest’s eyes rolled around
the congregation as if saying
this man doesn’t belong here
this man is not allowed
to stand before the icons
with a match in his hand and
in his other holding tight
the fuse of the dynamite
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THE GATE
Excerpt XL
Then we decided to return;
didn’t know what was a return, nor what was
the going forward; compass taken by waves,
severed ship ropes, broken oars; the candle wasn’t
for the ears nor for the eyes. Where can you find
the drowned men to mourn for them? We walked out
to the first land we arrived, broken by the wind,
rain and the rough seas, thrown there onto the rocks,
one on top of the other, we somehow made love
just to corner the cold and fear at the edge of our
bodies,
just to retain a bit of slimy warmth inside us like
worms in the coffin; there, at dawn
we discovered two churches occupied by seagulls
a golden little ship-offering was hanging in the middle
of the dome, behind the Communion Table, ravaged
wooden horse, two of its big teeth tumbled down
the marble stairs.
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What is this siege,
this gloomy enclosure of armed men
beneath the walls of Troy?
It tells of ships in flames
and of the black sky
like the river covered in blood
after the battle.
But the war begins now
with the black heads
of the men—yours
who point swords at our house,
and you, woman,
who count the sound,
the sound of the stone
which sharpens the blades.
ΠΟΛΙΟΡΚΙΑ
Προς τί αυτή η πολιορκία
σκυθρωπών ανθρώπων
κάτω απ’ τα τείχη της Τροίας;
Μαρτυρεί τα φλογισμένα καράβια
και το μαύρο ουρανό
σαν το γεμάτο αίμα ποτάμι
μετά τη μάχη.
Μα ο πόλεμος τώρα ξεκινά
με τα μαύρα κεφάλια ανθρώπων
σαν το δικό σου
που σκοπεύεις το σπίτι με το σπαθί σου
κι εσύ γυναίκα
που μελετάς τον ήχο
της πέτρας που ακονίζει
τις λεπίδες
Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη//Translated by Manolis Aligizakis
Luca Benassi, Italia
AJAX (Excerpt)
Even at the hour of lovemaking, at night, in bed, you
suddenly remember the cloths-pegs left in the yard that
will rot in the dampness. Foolish women you send us
away from your bed, the house, the world, away from
your practical, wise mind, used to cook recipes, bake
sweets, mix medical potions, away from life with
the little, holy, daily events, with the certain objects
that relax all the unreachable great.
No one has ever asked me where my eyes are fixated,
where my mind goes, to which horrors, injustices
I’ve seen, which hatred I’ve faced (being fearless)
or whether I have a toothache or headache, as if
I don’t have head nor teeth, but a stone or plain wind
for a head. Why are you looking at me like that? Close
the doors, shut the windows, seal the gate and that black
fly, here it is, it sharpens its nails on the horn of the bull.
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Canadian Prairie
Mustard fields dressed
in yellow garments
fenced by indifference
forsaken by hills
forgotten by war lords
and poppy growers
tractor reminiscing
days of duty when at
daybreak tilling soil
and pulling dust over hung shirts
over flower beds lonely
farmer drinking his hot
chocolate before sending
a young hound to fetch
his dusty sandals
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(excerpt)
Words weren’t of much use this morning. All three knew this day was to develop much like all other days, except for Anton and his new job at the Kamloops Indian Residential School. Soon as he finished his breakfast and he said goodbye he jumped in his truck and drove away towards the other side of the river, just five minutes away.
The city was awakened to the prodding of the sun and to the light that needed to be enjoyed and felt on backs of people, on buds almost ready to bloom, on facades of stores and on the walls of houses arrayed along the few streets that make up Kamloops, the center of earth for the travellers, for the logging truck drivers, for the occasional tourists who pass by on their way to the coast, the city that you couldn’t call pretty, what could really be called pretty in Kamloops? Yet this small interior city was a marvellous natural beauty sitting in the middle of cross roads that connected north to south and east to west, a beautiful city with two big supermarkets, two big department stores; what one would never see in Kamloops was people swarming the sidewalks and roads, only, sometimes, one might meet a swarm of customers in one of the two supermarkets especially when they offered certain popular items on a good sale.
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Disorientation
In the summer the trees won us Some people went down to the
sea
others climbed up the mountains During the day the thorns
shine golden
amid the marbles The young waiters with blond moustaches
who work for the two seashore restaurants wear red armbands
During the night the ambulance arrives very late
The crowd gathers around it as though to discover someone
they know among the injured The youngest wears
a snow white shirt and a gold buckle on his belt And as soon as
the stretchers by the lampposts disappear music recommences
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Manolis Aligizakis 