What Can I Say to You
What can I say to you, oh autumn, when you rise
from the lights of the city up to the clouds?
Hymns, symbols, poetry all familiar frosty
flowers of the mind flow onto your hair.
A giant, you appear like an emperor’s spectrum
on the road of bitterness and recollection;
with your golden greatcoat’s fringe you scatter
leaves and faces of stars upon the soil
you, the angel of decay, master of death
the shadow which in a few imaginary steps
occasionally you slowly flap your wings
to write question-marks on the horizon.
I yearn, oh shivering autumn, for the hours
for this forest’s trees, the lonely bust
and as the branches fall onto the soil at autumn
I’ve come to let myself into your holy ardor
Manolis Aligizakis 