E
The seasons and the people’s passing
leader of music and gate keeper
was created in the crucible of wailing
with the caressing of the Evening Star
with precious tears and
wreaths of the sun that vanished
before dusk
with bits of joy gleaming
in the sunken wrath of people
oh, whispers talkative, talkative
songs of girls that touched
the flutter of Helicon wings
oh, the face won over
the downpour of eternity
F
After the death of authority
we waited for the king’s celebrations
messengers of the lost war and
the orders of the slaughtered
on these sunken mountains
we waited for the vow of youth forgotten
along with the adventure of the roads
we carry the light and the spade
of the eighth day
entrusted in us
by the bitterness of God.
With the silence of memory
that consumes us
wrapped like an ivy over our bodies
with the music of love
spent along the bands of stench
with the full of holes prayer
of the Esfigmeni monks
G
The deeds of the eighth day
are thrown into a stone water well
all around them: thorns and poison
and the skin of the tree snake.
They don’t yell because
they are archetypes
of thunder and thunderbolts.
When thunderbolts strike
subterranean roots
onto the virginal mirrors of silence
matches are stricken by the fingers of God.
Small birds with ready wings
flying to the breath of the seventh space
become invisible
not consumed
in their defeated castles
that on the day of echoes
they render useless
the formidable trumpets
Manolis Aligizakis 