Theatre of Sidon (400 A.D.)
Son of an honourable citizen, above all, handsome
ephebe of the theatre, pleasing in many ways,
I often compose very daring verses in Greek,
that I circulate, secretly most of the time.
Oh gods! That they won’t be seen
by the darkly clothed people, those who speak of morality
these verses are about a superior quality of carnal pleasure
leading to sterile love, often rejected.
Dry Mouth
Fasting is not necessary, he said. I chewed my saliva,
ripped the bed sheet, knocked at the door, smelled
the wall, waited in the hallway, out of the stoa, and I stood
in the road. The night was falling late, later than the void
between two hands. The bus arrived, and all five of them
disembarked together. The woman’s kerchief fell.
The lights were still on; the ticket collector had long hair,
tickets, two drachma coins, and his secrets. The spotlight
hit the man with the black suit, who was coming from
the other side, the man I didn’t expect, yet he had my hat on
and held a basket with yellow apples.
Lantern
The lantern’s wisdom I embrace
and the narrow path in front
I unfold with all good inspiration
for the discovery of the one.
Sardonic laughter
ironic smiles short
ever short images of
stolen gazes
when a young sun struggles
to transform the world
into golden miracles.
Human banality
that overcomes
all the dreams of dreamers.
A lantern’s wisdom I present
to my feet
for my feet to follow perhaps
this morning perhaps today
I’ll find Him.
Perhaps this morning
I’ll find the one
who sees man like a man.
Perhaps today
I’ll get to meet the One
who doesn’t stay at the color
of garment or skin
who doesn’t esteem
the value of a bank account
or the number of missiles
pointed against the other man.
Tired footsteps in the agora and
and in the arena
and in the matador’s dreams
as I endure the ridicule of
the inexistent life forms
as I endure the pain of searching
for a piece of the endless blue sky.
Tired footsteps up the steep
face of daylight and the blind
hands of the moonlight.
Return
Smile of the Gods, Bay of Saronikos, always great
blessing of our ship’s route
we could hear the roar of the high seas as easily as
the calmness of your depth
under the morning dew like a dove with its body’s
nonchalance: Athens
shivers and revels like a nymph that longs
for the faraway sun.
Because the sky shines, blonde mane of Pegasus,
Fate of the Parthenon
glass that Zeus keeps upside-down that the dream-light
is poured a flood
prodigal son, I return to you swaying like a flower
in the breeze
earth, sky and you, oh sea of Attica, to whom I owe all
my Songs!
Manolis Aligizakis 