Loneliness
Sorrow was hanging in the air; the leafless branches
behind the railings and you were alone by the window.
The night passed in front of your door; it left like
a beloved woman, a woman that another man
was holding from the waist.
And the moon, like a calm, turned off light bulb
at the turn of the road above the drug store.
Paris
Oh Paris, it was time when I scattered
my dreams in your dark mornings
and now I leave you taking with me
the sorrowful joy that I love you.
The Mediterranean delicate siren
that flows around our ship
with all its frothy lilies
now takes me away from you
but we shall meet again in the future
when light will come carefully to open
my eyes before the gleaming blue day
that helps me live with your memory
and then its islands will charge
Athens, I know, isn’t far behind
and they’ll stand and fight
my sinful love for you, oh Paris,
and they will wish me to forget
how sweetly I gave you my soul
not longing to meet anyone
when I aimlessly saunter in your streets
Gratitude
The sense of gratitude
passing through me slowly
reaches
the forests that root in the wind
days in tomorrow’s train stations
we live in nameless streets
by the riverbanks of every number
the cosmos will forget
all who loved it and
it won’t know the number of stars
each person hides in their heart
forgotten in the old mistakes
all lovers are holy and sinful
Eros is a thirst
for whom will be betrayed
shining moment that suddenly arrives
and vanishes in the whirl of eternity.
And if the road is full of truths
the inexplicable moment is still far away
the dream dives into the void and
writes about chancy destinations
in this version of history
they keep time and light like
a legacy of nothing they inherit
from generation to generation
an untidiness of improvisation
a vigilant attraction.
Outside something like a forged spring
and the forever illusion
of keys that open the wide-open door.
Second Hour
I move my brush toward the eastern field
and the cows stop spinning their tails
splashed in light brown although
worm and eagle earn gratification
in the nimble yawn of nostalgia
of life in Chronos’ pendulum
tender sparrow tackles two seeds
in his beak and retreats to his brother
in the bushes one teardrop in an
irksome afternoon when even chewing
a stick of gum embalms you
with such pleasure you couldn’t
think yourself more lucky
as you breathe fresh air rising
off seashore dusk always
recurring as a faithful friend after
a tough day’s work then starts
the game of cynical Death
evangelizing his fearsome enigma
The dark wind blows
as from the future and undresses
a decaying reality concocted by
hands of the few though the rose
traverses past eyes of the girl
who reflects at the redness of her lips
shrugging her shoulders my loneliness
in the path enmity grasps
thin air and ponders the question
while headmaster cinches the noose
around an apostate’s muscled neck
without concern for mercy
carves emblems and insignia
inked with blood crying out: who cares?
Manolis Aligizakis 