Ancient Tomb
The moon gleams with soft rays
over Mycenae, while the blow
of wild air bursts Agamemnon’s
tomb open, next to the spirit of
the almond tree jutting out like
Oreste’s mania swirling skyward
like a dancing serpent while
Electra’s dance depicts the end
of the Asphodel’s dream
in the Hellenic essence of my soul
rivulets still hold the sunshine
in their hands and the paradisiacal
lust of the first kiss dangles from
the lips of the Kore glorifying
innocence as the kyrie eleison travel
eastward to the Mediterranean Sea
say,
let’s dance and long for this year’s
newborns, for this year’s red eggs
a wavelet appears from the blue forest
with the light wave froth calling
and promising nostalgia
in the Hellenic essence of my soul
tomorrow isn’t yet and
splendorous yesterday dwells in the void
what else can one ask other than
the profound meaning
of the non-existent now?
Bravo, he says to me,
always follow the stars and read their minds
the end is never a goal, only the way
to its faraway shore that gleams
clear in your viscera
Manolis Aligizakis 