Vernal Noon
How is it that carts pass along the seashore road
loaded again with bags made of paper and filled with
sulphur? (They will put sulphur on the grapevines
the day after tomorrow. They will leave a plate
of grapes on the window ledge. How is it, that we hear
the thuds of hammering wood from the shipyard again?
An oar gleams at the far end. A woman shakes a colourful
blanket off the balcony. And this old man, with a long
cane, whips the air serenely, hunting a big, invisible
bird with square wings.
Manolis Aligizakis 