The night is dressed in
black.
Yet my gray dreams are
alight.
In a dreary chamber I am
caged,
a blue-painted lamp my
only light,
the lantern of expectation
seems aged.
The caress is but a graze.
The gaze a wound on
parched bread.
Spring is sleeping on
sheets of ice,
the years a knapsack hard
to heave
and yet love is looking
for a sally.
The day is dressed in
white.
My dreams the rays of the
sun they chase,
and on a blooming
pomegranate tree they climb.
As my senses there play
and sweat,
to the path of expectation they lead me.
The music is like a
caress.
A nightingale's song rings
through the streams.
The ivy's shiny green
strings,
my lost years together
bind.
And thus my love I take
for a sally.
Translated from Greek by yours truly.
Image taken by the man himself.
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