Μελίπνοος

Εκπατρισμένη των ματιών η καταγωγή.

Κάπου στην επιβίωση θα δουλεύουν

-φημίζεται για την αξιοσύνη της

η υποταγή.

Με άδεια καλοκαιρινή.

Ελεύθερα τώρα τα χέρια νοικοκυρεύουν

τα παραμελημένα χάδια τους.

Θαυμάζω τι επιδέξια ξαπλώνουν τα δάχτυλα

στου παιχνιδιού τους το κρεβάτι

σφιχτά δεμένα

σα να πλέκουν γελαστά καλαθάκια

με πόθου συστροφή τα γεμίζουν

τα ξηλώνουν κι απ' την αρχή τα πλέκουν

σα να κουράστηκε τώρα ο νέος

ίσως απ' την πολλή ελευθερία της πλοκής

λίκνιζε χαρούμενα και το πλοίο

γέρνει κι αποκοιμιέται

πάνω στο αριστερό του σκουλαρίκι

ξύπνια εκείνη ακόμα

κοιτάζει για λίγο το κοιμισμένο χέρι του

κι αργά προσεκτικά μην το ξυπνήσει

στον ώμο της το φέρνει

κι επάνω του γέρνοντας

γλυκά κι αυτή αποκοιμιέται.

Τι εύχρηστο μαξιλάρι η αγάπη

Κατάλληλο

για κάθε ταξίδι του πόνου στο σώμα

για κάθε ηλικίας όνειρα

για κάθε είδους νύστα

απαραίτητο

για το σπίτι

για το στοχασμό

για το λεωφορείο

για το πλοίο και για ό,τι

μας πνίγει.

I walk and it gets dark.

I make up my mind and it gets dark.

No, I am not sad.

I've been curious and studious.

I know of everything. A bit of everything.

The names of flowers when they wither,

when words turn green and when we feel cold.

How easily the feelings' lock turns

with any of oblivion's keys.

No I am not sad.

I went through days with rain

I tensed up behind this

watery barbwire

patiently and unnoticed,

just like the trees' pain

when their last leaf departs

and just like the fear of the braves.

No I am not sad.

I went through gardens, I stood next to fountains

and I saw plenty of statuettes laughing

at unseen causes of joy.

And little amoretti, braggarts.

Their fully stretched bows

became a crescent to my nights and I daydreamt.

I saw many and lovely dreams

and I saw me forget myself 1.

No, I am not sad.

I walked a lot through feelings,

both my own and others'

and there was always space left between them

for wide time to pass through.

I went through post offices and went through them again.

I wrote letters and wrote again

and prayed to the god of answer tirelessly.

I received short cards:

a hearty farewell from Patras

and some greetings

from the leaning Tower of Pisa.

No, I am not sad that the day is leaning.

I've talked a lot. To humans,

to lampposts, to pictures.

And a lot to chains.

I learned to read hands,

and to lose hands.

No, I am not sad.

I travelled, indeed.

I went through here, I went through there...

Everywhere, the world, ready to age.

I lost from here, and I lost from there.

I both lost through my caution

and through my carelessness.

I went to the sea too.

I was owed a width. Consider it taken.

I was afraid of loneliness

and I made up people.

I saw them falling

by the hand of a quiet dust particle,

who ran through a sunray

and others from the sound of a minimal bell.

And I sounded myself through bell ringings

of an orthodox desolation.

No I am not sad.

I caught fire and got smoldered.

And I never missed the moons' experience.

Their waning over seas and over eyes,

dark it has sharpened me.

No I am not sad.

As much as I could, I resisted this river

when it wad a lot of water, for it not to wash me away,

and as much as it was possible I made up water,

in dry riverbeds

and drifted away.

No I am not sad.

It's getting dark at the right time.