Small Homeland (mikri Patrida)


I didn't make long journeys,
my years had roots, were trees
which my heart dressed in leaves
and let them blossom in stone.


I didn't make long journeys.
The people I loved were forests,
my friends were moons and islands,
that my heart thirsted for.


You are my longest journey
You are the night, the day-dream,
my small homeland, my body, my beginning,
you are my land, my breath and air


I didn't make long journeys,
my heart travelled to dreams, to wet sensations
to breathe the mystic world,
and this is enough for me.







EDITOR'S PICK