The city of drowning

Pink loukoumi on the anniversary of the Flood

Swings in our breaths.

My city, closes its sea

The sea of my country, or the war,

The sea of Larnaca, or peace…

I belong to the flood.

I sent to the streets my old poems,

I sent her the smugglers and the vests of love.

The guard of the city funfair, reads my identity card:

Name: Sea

Age: Sea

Mother tongue: Sea

Distinguishing marks: Drowned

I will captain the last ships,

Seduce the city from its lights,

And pluck from each colour a male and a female,

And the ship remains my bride.

You await, but you see nothing!

I will not confess.

I was alone

And love alone passes

And alone remains!

And all those who love remain alone.

Far from me there,

My soul,

At ground zero.

Larnaca

Lifts me up as a statue of greenery

And the flood falls,

Reconciles with me over loukoumi and biscuits

And seeps into my poetry

Punctures my ship

And I drown aboard…