EXPECTATION

 

Agnes Sotiracopoulou Skina

 

A pack of mad wolves

My sensations have slavering pursued me

Since early dawn,

They fall upon me, they bite me,

They hurt me,

And I, lying motionless

Without volition

Upon a bed

That I cannot lift my body from,

Here with dry eye-balls

In the empty sockets of my eyes,

I am waiting for them to devour me.

Fire seizes the extremities of my body.

My joints groan, I am withering

Ashes–everything beautiful that ever existed­–

My own body ashes!

And I cannot even scream...

 

CLAY

 

I hate my nights­

Terrible nights of horrible deflected loves;

Full of indescribably lascivious dreams,

And then, the awakenings.

 

The fearful disappointment, the ghastly abyss,

This inviolable grave

From which, even with imagination’s help,

I cannot escape.

 

Fear paralyses me;

I want to get away–but where to go?

For the whole world turns to clay­–

And I a blind worm searching

To find life’s spark once more within it.

 

Translated from the Greek by the author and Hugh McKinley

 

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