translated by Jane Assimakopoulos

I never did understand spring
–it’s clear from other poems–
that’s why there are all these misunderstandings
about flesh an hope, and knowing oneself within time
I never could balance out
that yearly miracle
with silence forever:
the truth of perennial flowers
with death once an for all.
And today I studied the new greenery
the way the cold air startled
by nature’s effusions
takes a small step back.
The light plays coyly in half hidden treetops
and here I am again
beside the point.
The point is this:
the body so personal
and its loss so impersonal.

  Poetry Greece, Issue Summer 2000