Bicycle

Bicycle left in the holiness of rust

two olives on the plate

one slice of bread for us three

can hunger divide equally

pain? One shoe less young boy

eyes of sunlight

one improvised explosive devise

for twelve soldiers of our platoon

can death be portioned

as sunlight through a sieve?

Nuance of wind aloof

through forsaken barracks

bicycle left in the loneliness of rust

two olives on the plate share pain

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Poem by Kostas Karyotakis

SCRIBER

Hours have turned pale and he’s found stooped

over the unthankful table.

The sun slides in through the open window

and plays onto the opposite wall

folding my chest I search for my breath

in the dust of my papers.

A thousand sounds life vibrates sweetly

in the freedom of the street

I’m exhausted, my eyes and mind are blurry

yet I still write.

I know of two sunlit lilies in a vase next to me

as if they’ve sprung up from a grave.

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Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

https://griffinpoetryprize.com/press/2023-longlist-announcement/

Appearances Can Fool You

     “I’m the key master” he was saying and standing

in the middle of the hall he gesticulated as if he was

opening locked safes; he then listened to the passing

trains, he gesticulated again, he signaled, twenty

years in the asylum even the deranged men laughed

at him; “you’re nothing” they said to him and he cried.

      One evening I went close to him, “I know” I said,

“you’re the key master”; he smiled and said, “no, I do

this for the others; I’m a scientist, a doctor, as my mother

wished me to become.”

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Χρυσόθεμις//Chrysothemis

Έκλαψα κείνη την ημέρα για όλη μου τη ζωή, για τα περήφανα άλογα,
για τα διωγμένα σκυλιά, για τα πουλιά, για τα μερμήγκια,
για το γαϊδούρι του μπαρμπα-Σταμάτη που έβοσκε ήσυχα στον κάμπο,
σ’ ένα κατάξερο κίτρινο χωράφι, — το ’βλεπα απ’ το παράθυρο· —
«γαϊδουράκι μου, γαϊδουράκι μου», φώναζα μέσα μου — και λέοντας «γαϊδουράκι μου»,
εννοούσα τον κόσμο.
Τότε βάλθηκα να κλαίω δυνατότερα
ίσως για να μ’ ακούσει η αδάκρυτη αδελφή μου. Οι υπηρέτριες μαζεύαν απέξω
τα μεγάλα ζεσταμένα χαλιά· — την κόκκινη ζέστα τους
την ένιωσα, μεγάλη, υγιεινή, σ’ όλο το σώμα μου. Τα μάτια μου στεγνώσαν. Ο κόσμος
ήταν ζεστός, χνουδωτός, ολοπόρφυρος — μαζί κι οι πεθαμένοι.

I cried that day, I cried for my whole life, for the proud

horses, the stray dogs, for the birds, the ants, for uncle

Stamatis’ donkey that grazed calmly in the plain, in

a dried up yellow field, I saw it from my window,

my little donkey, my little donkey, I cried inside me

and calling it my little donkey I meant the whole world.

Then I decided to cry louder so that

perhaps my tearless sister could hear me. The servant

girls gathered the big, warm carpets, I felt their red

warmth, strong, healthy over all of my body. My eyes

stopped crying. The world was warm, fluffy, purple

like the dead.

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Poem by Kostis Palamas

TWO EYES

The oil of my lamp burnt out

and I keep vigil. What a night!

No star, only a ghost with two

eyes nailed at the edge of my bed

the world has vanished sucked into

the mouth of the dark Abyss

only two eyes exist over the void

two eyes that fill nothingness

only two eyes that lit the darkness

all are asleep, vanish, disappear

only two awaken eyes gaze at me, they don’t

go to sleep: their eyelids will never close

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Hat

He dons his hat peers outside

at darkness under clouds

laughter staggers like

it craves light from under rock

Look up he said the geese show a path

toward the same direction

keep your hat on and your arms

keep them open a wish may

embrace you or smiling passion

kiss before you run into

the ambush pain

of having a hat on

under lead clouds

and the sun hiding behind

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