Hammock
Truly, what bothered you, my love?
The fact that like a child I enjoyed myself in the hammock? Or that the book I was reading opposite yours it had its pages trimmed?
I’ve been saying to you, for a week now to take this cursed book, a small treasure really, with Elytis’ poems, with its pages still untrimmed and to go to the hammock.
You lay there and pretended you read.
Who did you try to fool?
Read a book with untrimmed pages?
And you, as if an intellectual, you tried to do what?
I, sweet eyes, haven’t read this book but I have the words of these poems in my soul. I’ve experienced them, I live with them daily.
How long have you tried to acquire it?
You know books are more appreciated when we try very hard to get them.
Yet their words have no value unless we have tried to get into their meaning.
And the effort I’m talking about is the ache of our soul.
Have you ever felt it?…

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