From: The Scribe's Mirror (1989)
Shadows Casting Bodies
As the Muse of Woe on Pythia St. says —
You move your lips and they come
Voices from other lips
Shadows casting bodies
On a wall made of paper
Until life becomes four walls.
And yet, you'll never find her there
With her brave metaphors
She is constantly on the move
In vain the new reader would ring
Each time anew the doorbell of reading
While the invitation clearly spelled it out
For poets only
In other words, for those drowned
And not the ones who sought the safety raft
For those naive ex-non-poets
Who sought the body first.
Translated by Stathis Gourgouris
Page(s) 74
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