November Wind
But now the night has come. Let us close the door and pull
the curtains
because it’s time for revelations. What have we accomplished
in our lives? Who are we? Why you and not I?
For a long time, no one has knocked on our door, and the mailman
hasn’t come in a while. Ah, the November wind has blown
so many letters, so many poems away.
And if I’ve lost my life, it was
for insignificant things: a word or a key, yesterday or
a tomorrow.
However, my nights are filled with the fragrance of violets
because I remember so many friends who left without leaving
an address, so many words without response
and I think music is the grief of those who never found the time
to love.
Until finally nothing remains from the past but a foggy memory
(When did we live?)
and every time spring comes, I cry because in a while we’ll die
and no one will ever remember us.
Manolis Aligizakis 