translated by Maria Nazos

“it is the greatest amongst herbs
and becometh a tree.”

H.D. Doolittle

Truth is that I like to watch
slipping deeply back in time
into the forbidden chambers
with the ancient remains
of the forefathers.
I’ve not become any wiser
but I love to let myself get carried away
as the summer clarion fades
by the splendid chords of forgotten poets.
And I gracious or even wretched
long for the living sob
that tries to break away from me
crawling through the dark
shifting balances
seeking an infinite
more rich emotional sky.

Truth is
that I still insist to claim
gently
distant
as a lily if you wish
that ultimate
the only destination
which leads nowhere
to no spring
has no death
no time or sun
in the answer.

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