To Stay
It must have been one in the morning,
or one thirty.
In one corner of the tavern,
behind the wooden partition.
Except for us two, the place was empty.
Barely lit by a kerosene lamp.
A sleep-deprived waiter was dozing by the door.
No one would see us. And we had
excited ourselves so much,
we were unwilling to be cautious.
Our clothes were half open, and there were not many,
since that divine July was very hot.
Enjoyment of the flesh between
half-open clothes,
a quick glimpse of the memory which
has lasted twenty-six years, and has now come
to stay in this poetry.
Manolis Aligizakis 