Humble Ode
They have no voice:
things that return to their sleep,
their eyes bloodied by time
insignificant shipwrecks in the bottom of color,
rise now in a multitude of colors.
However, I am
dead
since my birth, already dead,
talking to you:
monsters that frighten me with death
I know you
harmless house pets
you willingly become crumbs in a myth
you don’t have history, and you scold
the agony of people
and their spontaneous love.
Cheap shadows,
excrements of wild imagination
what do you seek in a causeless world?
Indifferent, homeless cowards
what do we seek
in the horrible deserts
of our vision?
Manolis Aligizakis 