I
The lucidity of rose petals suffuses
as the wind ripples and caresses
the dunes of praying sunlit trees
dressed in their primeval innocence
and abundant feeblemindedness
as the creeks lovingly murmur
songs to one another and
Heaven whispers lullabies to
virgins not yet kissed other than
in dreams, when one buries his
forefathers under the big oak
at the forlorn edge of the village
abiding with nature’s peace
commanding the birth and death
in one breath, all creatures crawl
eastward, life lingers in light
the greater the number
of peaceful days
the higher the oak of death
irresistibly climbs and
the first ode swings in transparency.
Manolis Aligizakis 