SOME divine moments in
fever of destiny, draw out
contrasts and aphorisms.
And they do insist.
A nostos of our dream shivers.
Wrapped in a song. At the first
turn, the song extinguishes, and…
Silence may provoke the world,
or Sorrow justice, but nostalgia of
the unknown had won us in our youth.
Immortality too, in a few joints.
And he, who has not wasted a
treasure in his youth may heal
that crack in the door.
As night falls, a woman’s tender
whisper. It could be a farewell
to an age gone by. There is no
haste. There are no wagons
unloading any pirates of
I recall my first verse. A child then.
Eros-stricken by the faraway lights
and elders who slept on armchairs.
I would then enter a landscape,
painted on the oldest of our walls.
-Autumn was eternal there.