Έλλη, να ένα ντουκάτι [ENG]

4:30 A.M.

the fields rattle

with red birds;

it is 4:30 in

the morning,

it is always

4:30 in the morning,

and I listen for

my friends:

the garbagemen

and the thieves,

and cats dreaming

red birds

and red birds dreaming

worms,

and worms dreaming

along the bones of

my love,

and I cannot sleep,

and soon morning will come,

the workers will rise,

and they will look for me

at the docks,

and they will say,

"he is drunk again,"

but I will be asleep,

finally,

among the bottles and

sunlight,

all darkness gone,

my arms spread like

a cross,

the red birds

flying,

flying,

roses opening in the smoke,

and

like something stabbed and

healing,

like

pages through a bad novel,

a smile upon

my idiot's face

Charles Bukowski

[from The Rooming House Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966 (1988), Black Sparrow Press]

copyright@giorgos legakis

3/2011