The Devil Speaks
“The angel doesn’t know anything
of his beauty
I only I
who betrayed my nature,
my first angelic nature,
may adore it now.
I, the whole of me, can fit in it
and tasting regret in the kisses
I can dream, I can fall in love
with the denied.”
VIII
What time before dawn
I dream that I reach the precipice
and I fall, fall
without my body?
All deaths are staged here
by people
the breath of leaves is heard
new birds replace yesterday’s
just to sing with
one flutter, one soul.
Where am I at that moment
the only important moment
that underlines the great adventure?
Where am I when
they take away from me
one spring every night
and I don’t touch the womb
that gives birth to
the butterfly that dries up?
Ages!
All ages are poor
and the age of eighteen
is dimply lit by the other miracle;
ages don’t taste darkness enough
and they don’t count
the value of the body
the infinite nature of the body.
And innocence, like blindness
and the old fool saints
fly a kite up in the air.
At that time when the poets
match innocence with a wolf
that moment, known only to the body
that writhes, growls
the sleepy sky turns dark
I and you too die
a thousand times
before dawn.
Water Well
Water-well springs to the foreground, the matador’s blood decorates the goring horns of the bull and another opulent song dances on the white petals of the gardenia flower: save this moment before the irresistible Hades walks your way
—You need to dig the garden, but you watch TV all day long
I drink the traditional bitter coffee while you lie in the coffin like a definition of exactly the opposite you ought to be, yet when my time arrives to fit in the width and length of the same casket, you won’t be here to drink my bitter coffee
—You remember when you went hunting and the car engine froze on you?
The hoarfrost of April is still around when the heartless Hades pierces my heart, the first swallows dance in the air, and my mother covers the Easter eggs under the kitchen towel, hiding them from my eyes
—Get up and take the garbage to the sidewalk, you lazy bum
And I beg Hades to bring you back to me, my beloved, as his sardonic laughter becomes a macabre omen, and in the form of a song, he whispers
—Since I’ve left you alone, your other half, I need to take: to balance the universe
Manolis Aligizakis 