Poetic Movements

Κουταλιά της θάλασσας πικρό αλάτι στα βαθιά μαλλιά πλεγμένα λύονται. Άμορφη σκιά της πέτρας και της άμμου στα μάτια μπροστά γεννιέται και ευθύς χάνεται. Χανόμαστε μαζί της στα λυτά μαλλιά της Μέδουσας. Ιούλιος 2021, Ερμιονίδα.

Shallow are the depths of the sea swallows are circling again above its surface; what are the words that matter and the phrases that fly beyond? The journey attached to this remains yet unknown; as unknown you masterfully remain to me. By the moment it’s getting late  – late for chances and too late for changes. The wind blows now viciously freed as if tomorrow we will wake up facing a new reality; but my hands cannot reach out to yours anymore and I can barely look straight into your eyes. What if we followed the reddish path of the moon on the sea underneath our feet? And what if we don’t – June-July 2021, Athens. Photograph: moon across the dock; June 2021, Athens.