The Vitos Calendar
To the memory of Nikos Kazantzakis
FIRST DAY
my body became the beginning of a voyage.
Lights on the shore, a funeral procession
for the verdure of summer
the calls of mothers
took an autumnal echo
in the forgiveness of twilight.
I walk as the first rain
comes from the sea
for me the escape — quench of
an ancient thirst — was called death.
may the so winds blow
and slowly mark the orchards of the horizon
that we, the final comrades, shall cultivate.
silent caiques await the morning twilight
in the nightly quietness of the harbor.
The taste of the grape and of the fig
belong to memory now
my body became the beginning of a voyage.
Manolis Aligizakis 