NINTH DAY
We were making plans for
our death tonight
and it was as if guessing
the songs along with the fishermen
distancing themselves from the shore.
The glance of the sun might be bold
or would the roots of ancient trees
enclose ever tightly
or would we sink in endless waters
with the weight of the days?
metal clatter and chirps
of wounded birds high up in the air
sea made of wheat
or would we die
of the many sunflowers?
Manolis Aligizakis 