dimitris varos
poetry | telesilla

"The bridle of rage"
Bookstars Publication

Ortygia   Telesilla

How long I’m standing
here on Ortygia?
Remain motionless
under the hot sun
Looking like a marble kouros
with broken hands

I search the wind
for the cool breeze of Aegean
the sweet smell of Delos
which gave its name
to this place

I have to caress the Doric columns
in temples of Apollo,
Athena and Artemis
I have to easy their eternal nostalgia
But the source of Arethusa
brings black water from Alpheus today Olympia is being burned
and my heart comes out of me
falls on the asphalt
and breaking in pieces

What the barbarians doing again
in our homeland
while we’re standing here?
You as bare models for tourists
and me like a marble kouros
with broken hands


The birds can read the map of the sky
They travel north or south
faithfully on an ancient route

Where are we going?
With a foreign god
a foreign governor
and a foreign currency?
Apatores, countryless, unidentified
bewildered and speechless
Lonely shadows
that wandering uncontrollably
in an unprotected land

Orion has ascended
but the vintage did not start this year
The damp land in Thermopylae
raises a silenced angry with a cyclamen
of all those who feared Xerxes
and the Gauls of Brennus.

The enemies
who had surrounded the city
are welcome in our lounges
and Telesilla
is a speechless, broken stone
on the wall of a church in Argos

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all images & writing © Dimitris Varos, 1995 - 2017