Spring Night
He lights the lamp. He wants to do something. He can’t.
The moon shines outside; horses are there and two boats
with guitars. The oarsman must be wearing the yellow
shirt of the dead man. The night is enclosed in distorting
mirrors, the face is ballooned, cut into pieces, melts, and
slips into the thick green waters along with the caterpillars.
He is not the one who laughs inside the water well
Visit
All night long, sleepless,
you promised to go visit.
He looked so frail
like a wilted red carnation.
White walls, immaculate
mirror completely silent
hadn’t seen death yet as
he pulled his hand
from yours like
a spoiled child
keeping his toy to himself.
You promised not to cry
as he let his last breath to
float freely in the void
your tears dripped regret
you didn’t have the courage
to hold his hand and tell him
that you miss him.
For the Shop
He wrapped them carefully, tidily
in green priceless silk.
Roses of rubies, lilies of pearls, violets
of amethyst. He values them as evidence
of his desire, his vision, not as he saw them
in nature and studied them. He will leave them in the safe,
examples of his courageous and skillful work.
When a customer comes into the store,
he takes from their cases other things to sell—superb jewels—
bracelets, chains, necklaces, and rings.
Manolis Aligizakis 