translated by David Connolly and Dimitra Kotoula

It’s you.
Yes, I can hear you.
A fine skin spreads over my tongue.
Caresses it.
A fine skin caresses my tongue.
My hands resound full of fruits.
Full of abandonment.
Whatever is going to happen in the tale
is happening now in my hands.
You blow my day.
Surprise it.
Your smell flustered my day.
It whirls.
Falls.
My day whirls and falls into yours.
My heart
a warm meek mouth
that your heart’s scented caress
has condemned to survive
wide open
stammering
without lips.

     Three Notes for a Melody, Nefeli Publications, Athens, 2004