<\/p>\n
My first poetry<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I started with poetry and I know that only through poetry I am able to find my sense of the world and existence. For surely poetry is not a function of speech but a function of existence. It is an ever-changing way of \"mind\" and \"being\" in the world. It's your personal magic relationship with things. It is what makes you transcend your earthly convention and create a personal vision.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u039c\u03b9\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1:<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n I saw you washing with light the night from your hands A bundle of haunted rays reminded of the harvest (\u2026) (\u2026) (\u2026) (..) A distant sound splashes the sorrow ***<\/p>\n Philoctetes<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n (\u2026)<\/em>
You pushed with wild joy Sisyphus' rock
You pushed certainty
Uphill in your heart
You were beautiful because you knew your defeat
And you pushed the curse
To the inconceivable peak
You pushed your struggle on the Struggle<\/p>\n
A beam of colours in your memory
Reminded of an oath
But you were pushing the rock
alone
You were pushing your doom laughing
And the night was climbing on your hands
To drink their thirst
The wild intoxication of the free wrestle with the demon
And you kept on washing them with ancient light
Even more defeated even more beautiful
So that you can start again.<\/p>\n
And as you are dripping dreams
swimming all day in the light
You will tear your nakedness on the rocks
The divine nakedness
that gifted you yourself.<\/p>\n
You passed by
And the flavor of the storm
Was in your silence
In your gaze
The cinder of light
Pale goldendrop
On the moon's eyelid
Your dream was crying
You passed by
And you were the violin's string
That vibrates
From the scream of Man.
You passed by
And what was left on my touch
Was your shape.<\/p>\n
I drank ailing light
And the song was haunted inside of me.<\/p>\n
How the winds stripped you
At the crossroads
And you were left with no way back...<\/p>\n
And the wounded dawn drips with ailing light<\/p>\n\n
Groans and wastes<\/em>
Groan and pleading in the rock cave<\/em>
Not even the spring of Lycian Apollo<\/em>
Couldn't cool your burning<\/em>
But your algos, wounded one,<\/em>
Still carries away your moan<\/em>
to the ruthlessness of the Achaeans<\/em>
Carry away your loneliness<\/em>
To the footsteps of man<\/em>
And as the snake drags your figure<\/em>
To the cave of the aeons<\/em>
It wraps around its body the circle of human suffering<\/em>
It wraps in its curse the voice<\/em>
Of human injustice<\/em><\/p>\n