IONIAN
Although we broke their statutes,
and drove them out of their temples,
the gods did not die out at all because of that.
Oh, land of Ionia, it is you they still love,
it is you their souls still remember.
When dawn comes on you on an August morning
the vigor of their lives goes through your atmosphere.
And at times the ethereal figure of a youth,
obscure, with quick steps
passes over your hills.
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THE GATE
Excerpt LVII
It is difficult, of course, to talk of things while they
occur, old men
waited to read what they had seen with their own
eyes in tomorrow’s newspapers; they didn’t know
which version was the most accurate. I waited to
find them inverted inside of me; the others were in
a hurry because of me. I thought they were right.
I had spread the wet sackcloth over three chairs,
one on top of the other,
so the clay statue was visibly ready. I had placed
the metal measuring tape, the trowel, the gobbet
on the floor.
The clay, he kept on saying, the clay, the clay.
He kneed it with his fists trying to mould statues
and real bread to feed the hungry.
Clay is my material, he said, clay isn’t eaten; so
alone.
THE GATE
Excerpt LVI
Yes, it’s me, he said again; the caretaker lowered
his eyes.
I, alone, shine my shoes, and my fingers get black or
brown from the polish, my face isn’t justified
or I talk to the retired civil servant
or to the traffic cop or the textile weaver
I search for the inexistent address; I insist it exists
in the poleodomic city plans, I transcribe new streets
the university students pass with flags and a cone
full of garbanzo beans
the clerk of the store moves his hands behind the five
display window dolls,
he places a silver flower on the hair of the middle
doll
uncle Stathis wipes his eyes with his fist
the crazy man takes out of his pocket birds and trains
two stork nests along with the chimney
six crafts with almonds and guitars. It was twilight
and a star behind the mountain waited for us to
gaze at it.
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Manolis Aligizakis 