Hades
My mind clings to the love song I wanted to sing for you, opposite the deadly rhapsody sung to you by Hades, foggy and indiscernible memory before He took you away, my beloved, my heaven, my constantly heartfelt euphoria, I miss you
—Don’t forget to pick up the garbage can with both arms: it’s heavy for your ailing heart
Hades lurked behind the old oak we passed on our last walk through the glen, where I’m now stranded in the dark forest where nymphs rarely appear
—Don’t forget to buy me a box of serviettes when you go to the drugstore.
Absurd, that I feel like singing a love song for you and the phone rings and takes me away from my thoughts as if to bring me good news: I’m alive, I can still love you forever, better than the absurdity of serenading the phone receiver as if it makes my loneliness go away
—Which cereal did you buy this time? You know I like chocolate Cheerios.
Yet during the purple twilight, I mesmerize my mind with the absurd thought of peace, singing a love song to an unknown listener while the missiles keep falling on bald heads and corpses of soldiers, and you’re gone forever
—Why don’t we go on a cruise next month? We have the time, don’t we?
Manolis Aligizakis 