Yet despite all your efforts
you don’t ever fool my eyes
all you wild winged beasts
nor you birds, neither horses.
I’m the one who runs not you
you’re rooted in the ground
soon as the rider will stop
you too become immobile
grandiose adventures
of the immortal gods
wherever you may exist
oh, you shadows of ghosts
all you illusionary giants
oh, to all you gods, alas
from the moment a man
will ride a horse before you
and will stand to observe
how you behave like the oak
or like ferns and will notice
you are hanging from his hand
and knowing that you hide
from their view
the airy face of the deep sky
he’ll forever separate you
from the sun you hide too
he’ll take the fire to light
and warm his humble home
and he’ll burn you with it.
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Manolis Aligizakis 