Cloud-bow. The clay adolescent behind the window pane
is wounded.
The ruined world cannot be restored.
Place me facing the image of my shadow,
to whom you allowed to exit without me present.
I want to pit myself against despair,
as when you explore a new homeland
and the unknown is still a box tossed in the void.
Yet, I am remote from that peaceful lake,
suspended like the astronaut swallowed up
by infinity.
I am not through. I would not have liked to be through.
The dazzling days follow on my footprints,
for as long as the light lasts.
If you return,
marble will melt away like snow struggling against the sunrays,
as when you weld yourself onto wilfulness
and manage to turn into stone.
Translated from Greek by Kostantinos Matsoukas
