Dawn
A boat-man passed with wide strides in the light-blue
dawn,
young, suntanned, ample in his body, brutish,
he turned in the quay towards the jetty. The echo
of his big, wet soles was heard all over the harbor.
And then, the lights of the quay, the old houses, the
faded window shutters,
despite their rusted hinges, the dust, the spiders,
were ready for dawn. And truly the sun came up;
its rosy and gray color curled around the cranes
of the quay
like the hair of a woman after her bath.
Manolis Aligizakis 