Past Midnight Cafes and Comets
Travellers came and left
declared enemies of the same forgetfulness
the same passion
lumberjacks of the same lust
with hearts spread to where the eyes can
reach
the same black ripped clouds
mix up their masts
rust their anchors
secretly using the conch to whistle the same grief
into their ears
as if a yellow, golden
bright colour
paints this black and miserable place
mercilessly pierced
by the sleepy lights of electric lamps
the sleepy lights of an ideal, pitiful
prostitution
and the sleepy che vuoi of the wretched camel?
Do you think so?
Think: it is impossible
it is useless to shout and say that
this flame
that eats your viscera
and which you,
yes, you, keep
so well
so tightly
so imprisoned
inside you
the travellers, you’d think, left and came
they solved the riddle
they untied the ropes
that held them tied to the quay
eh, wasn’t it?
a dance kindly sad
all these rages of the nostalgic
the wave calms
as it bites in a rage
the net of the dishevelled pines?
the pines that disguised themselves
just for tonight
only
that they won’t become comets?
A seabird stretches
its wings
and says:
“you’re
the new prophet
in the den of your lions”
Manolis Aligizakis 