BURNT WEEK

Snow everywhere in the morning
the city entered the sky
I was looking at my hand half-out of the window
in the hazy sun.
I turned towards the dog
and saw bones and ashes
on the table the torn years
the holiday snaps from Santorini
I got up to make coffee
with one leg asleep and
the water spilt on the floor
friends lost in vain came to smell it
I counted the days remaining
how many nights before you’d come
on stolen angel’s wings.
I lay down again
to rub my head on the rocks of sleep
perhaps I would be a voice again
somehow I heard the bell
I think I said ‘Come in, I’m here, it’s open’
I was stuck to the bars of the bed
pines bending in the wind
and piano music from beyond the cape —
I saw words being written everywhere
‘I want you’ articulated in my frozen ear.

‘More snow on the way’, the radio whispered.

(Translated by Simon Darragh, Agenda, Greek poetry –new voices and Ancient Echoes, guest editor: David Connolly, vol.36 Nos. 3-4, spring 1999)