POEM BY KOSTAS KARIOTAKIS
SCRIBER
Hours have turned pale and he’s found stooped
over the unthankful table.
The sun slides in through the open window
and plays onto the opposite wall
folding my chest I search for my breath
in the dust of my papers.
A thousand sounds life vibrates sweetly
in the freedom of the street
I’m exhausted, my eyes and mind are blurry
yet I still write.
I know of two sunlit lilies in a vase next to me
as if they’ve sprung up from a grave.
Libros Libertad 