VII
something vague gave birth to me
even if they told me
I was born in the sunshine.
small in passion and in sorrow
I walk toward something light
that will be life
and I stop…
I return…death.
I count time with what I’ve lived
and what is forthcoming
that resembles
the incomparable end.
only, look, the craft and the fisherman
can’t be separated from the blue
PARABLE
The morning star can never shine
as you when you appear, joy-giving lass
nor does the green clover have as much
as you have freshness on your sweetened lips
nor do the flowers of narcissus have
such fragrance as your lightest breath
nor does the bird know how to sing such
sweet songs as your inventive lips.
One only it can’t learn—to sing I love you—
and for this, I dare to say, another soul may die.
twenty
For the light to change
the production must pause
and the pause
must be produced methodically
Requiem
The day looks upon its face
in the crystal river as
gray dawn crawls closer
whispered promise of
fresh daybreak and life
schemes to follow symbol
her brood of twelve
herald diagnosis
our wretched dog
hunts for the symbol to
hide your fear in its belly
and fetch peace
from chiaroscuro dawn
vapors relent
fouling from
cheap alcohol
swirling in
your guts…
Manolis Aligizakis 