translated by
Tzoutzi Mantzourani 

 

With the wound of quiescence
Straight in the heart
I walked on borders
Until I arrived
Not like the passers-by
And all the dangerous creatures
Of the night
But with my fingers yellowish
Because of too much of moon.
The rest of the cracks
The empty orbits
(are) eating.

Later, more and more silently
The fog
Like a white day
Shows,
While words
Are present
And I am absent.

 

     A Mythical Day, Endymion Editions, Athens, 2014