translated by Maria Nazos

 

There are incidents
between you and me
still to be revealed
—incidents that only the elegy
which erodes this poem can know—
that define us
announcing our faintest breath
as a political reality
moving these roses
between you and me
a little closer to History
while the petals' yellow fluff
lightly dusts the words of this poem
:the next day:
(the symbols you keep in your backpack
are not enough)
:just the wind’s flute blowing hot air:
(no longer do you have the luxury
to passionately engage the nation)

The thought curls into herself
bares her thorns.
I wanted love.
To ponder an immaculate conception here
between you and me
a little closer to the wail of history.

Afterwards we forget-
naïvely deny.
As I look down at my palms
they fill with dirty
rotten light.

 

     The Constant Narrative, Patakis Publications, Athens, 2017