Lost
In the darkest night with
my hoping soul I long to see
the sun I saw for the first time
to just appear before me
now that the wailing
announces the new destruction
I long for the serene hour
and its evening greet
now that snow has spread
like a shroud over dryness
I long for the return
of the faraway swallow
I long for all the lost
and the witch old woman
tells me the shadows that
go away always return.
Manolis Aligizakis 