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Maria Lampadaridou Pothou

poet novelist playwright

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Small cage

Every morning
The song of the dead brother
Will awaken you from the ashes.

You never thought of the wound left behind us
that summer
The bird with the stone wings
And Sephes' boats moored in the beachfront of Chryse
wretched wood for the dead to travel

That summer
the garden was full of tender birds

What where you looking for?
Our eyes full of extinguished candles
from days we didn't live.
What where you doing on those rotten planks
that have never sailed?

You who will come to greet us
you who have never known fear and ashes yet
open with care the "small cage"
The azure girl will await you there
in the garden with the purple flowers.

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