…Night comes, night returns
just outside of the harbour
night fades in the deep water
fishing lamp made of blood.
It was the time of the steady
thunderbolt, first time ever,
unheard off, from the White
Sea to the Danube up to
the Euphrates delta hanging
over the world, ready to turn it
into eternal scorch and ashes
when the East fainted and
the West shivered like a cane.
It was the days during which
Polis, the harlot, spent her nights
in regret holding her tied hands
waiting for the executioner:
the annihilating executioner.
Russian, Normans, Bulgarians
Catalans, the Christian battling
Saracens, Hungarians the
great horse riders in front of who
all races showed respect as if
to an earthquake.
Polis waited for the Turkish
conqueror.
Libros Libertad 