You can’t replace the whole forest with a wooden
statuette on the table. The wind howls. The wind
is looking for us. Its steps are heard even in our
sleep,
like the steps of the soldiers in the domed hallway
of the baths
when we took off our last garment and the orphan
nakedness was left undefended;
the silent confrontation, the awkward laughter
opposite the certain one, the joyous curse and the curse
that tries to be a curse
the timid palm that still hesitates to hide —
We were like children in the shrubs of steam
we weren’t children
so ambitious, ambitious we create our Sunday cloths out
of nakedness.
But now, there’s not any confrontation with you, or him,
we’re all naked.
We have to confront this wind. Have you lost your leg,
my brother? Lean on me.
When you lean on me, I lean on the world.
We all lean on the world. The wind howls.
How beautiful we all walk together in the wind.
The sun will rise soon as we go over that mountain.
Manolis Aligizakis 