Dream #8: Unnamed City

by Christos Polydorou

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I woke up,
in a great desert.

Funny, I slept
by my lover

last night
after we

made love,
but when I

woke up,
I was in this great desert.

I am dressed in blood-red
robes, silken, with a hood.

* * *

Buzzards circle my
head, some days later,

I am dragging
my aching body

across the dunes.
I do not wish to die, and

how could I have
entertained thoughts of suicide

in my adolescence?
Socrates, Youth is wasted

on the young. I need
to look up now, and see,

no, not an oasis,
but Socrates,

holding his arms
out to me.

I need to wake up
from this dream

but a part of me can’t.
A part of me

never will.
2013-03-27 15.17.412013-03-27 15.21.252013-03-27 15.17.39LANGUAGE OF VERSELANGUAGE OF VERSELANGUAGE OF FICTIONLANGUAGE OF TRANSLATIONgiven (1)

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