Manto's Review by Ana Zumani

I tenderly exist yet nobody's trained me.

No one asked me to bloom; this “Manto” a Manto has never been.

People welcomed me, not just for the ecstasy of the moment.

They went down to their knees to worship me,

but I always wanted to look to the skies,

at a teacher, who with a stern glance would berate me.

Nobody went through the moves, got into the trouble

-they just showered me with honors-

since being on your knees and worship is easy,

being on your feet and accompany is not,

bowing your head is easy,

keeping it high is not.

I was looking for free people and I found addicts.

They placed their hopes on me,

a life's crumbling wall and so

it wasn't long before that we came to be

crushed under vanity's veil.

A poem I've translated from Greek

Love is Looking for a Sally by Maro Vlahaki

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.