V
I couldn’t become again
a silent drop of copper.
I couldn’t forget the many
faces who forgot themselves.
I can’t keep on breathing in an air which
can’t be expanded by thousands and
thousands of lives.
And this rock is my place
and these wild fig trees are
my motherland
yet only one color over my eyes
only one spring vein under my soil
only one unique age of time inside me
aren’t enough.
I want the whole of my earth
I want the tired man to lift so much death, so much sun,
I want thousands of houses with fire in their fireplaces
or with the tumbled down fireplace,
I want the pickaxe, and the shovel, and the nets
the wounded forehead of sweat
oh, my tortured hope,
oh my land, my homeland
hold me tight in your arms
and let me cry, cry, cry
for all your killed ravines,
for all your orphan islands,
for all your hungry fields,
let my cry deeper than your roots
more sad than your mourning,
more certain than your light —
until I shall be reborn with you.
I want the noise of machines,
the warm smell of the body,
I want our voice.
Speak. Speak.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 