M I L T O S S A C H T O U R I S
Wind Blew
Wind blew
flowers from another world
like a church
with black stigmata of evil
here and there
burning the skin red
in sleep
her hair
smelled tragically
sweet
Hour-Hand
From a high mountain I saw the sea
in its arms I saw
birds living and dying
and I shone high like a star
with tears and with nails
and around me fish and ladders
ladders they could climb up to push out
my heart
ladders I could climb down
to shred the heart of the sea
For Spring
The sun is green
the trees are burning
awaiting the swallows
our iron swallows' nests
no longer fool us with their flowers
they cost us our arms and legs
now our arms and legs are hanging
from the trees
The Poet's Head
I cut off my head
I put it on a plate
and took it to my doctor
— There's nothing wrong, he said,
it's just overheated
throw it in the river and we'll see
I threw it in the river with the frogs
and it raised a dreadful racket
it started shrieking and howling
all kinds of strange songs
I picked it up and put it back on my neck
and roamed the streets in a rage
with a poet's green hexagonometric head
__________________
Miltos Sachtouris
Poems
(1945-1971)
translated from the Greek by
Karen Emmerich
Archipelago books, 2006
