by Christos Polydorou
I love you.
I love you more.
You are pure, like morning,
in which we didn’t go to bed, angry.
Like a morning, you keep dawning
on me, occurring to me, profoundly
shaking my leaves, through the twigs,
down to the roots. I bleed some sap
for you, but it`s a small price to pay
for the longitudes and latitudes of your love.
Purify each colour I see.
Make me feel eternal innocence, always
deep inside of me,
it is like a diamond hidden in a rock
on the back of Atlas.
Make the winds lift, the gales go,
so I can be, in every way,