With Eyes Closed
Beautiful as the wilderness
is tamed by pagodas
as the fourth eye weeps the nectar,
as on the artificial turf
the boy is dribbling between two lightning bolts
Here swallows guard the summer,
our fading, lean summer.
They zigzag tirelessly and
and as long as they are here, they don’t let
the molecules of summer disintegrate.
Reading cloud-books
the unflappable windmill,
grinding its letters into flour
that the bread may not be only earth and water,
but blue sky too.
Today I have no reason to flee,
yet I remember. Somewhere
there’s a hidden door, I’ll smoothen
the wall. I close my eyes,
to make it easier to find.
Manolis Aligizakis 