Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
“The darkness declares the glory of light.” T.S. Eliot
Do not close the door,
even as evening falls.
The clouds will break—
fierce rain is on its way;
even the mountains will be drenched
in the pale lamps of twilight.
Somewhere beneath the banyan’s shadow
birds rehearse their quiet hymns;
the upstream river never returns home.
A crow wears its patient mask,
a peacock breaks into sudden dance—
in the night of shadows
illusion scatters its subtle snares.
On the bare branch of a leafless tree
lingers the scent of roses;
upon mountain stones
the waterfall sketches its sound,
calling endlessly from afar.
Across the settlements
darkness gathers in layered clouds;
on the path back to the nest
words lose their direction.
And the stars of heaven
bloom like silent lotuses
upon the cold black shawl of night.
