PANAYOTIS IOANNIDIS

THE ORCHARD

That man was meant for this one

As the sunken statue for the sea

the wind for the dress hung out to dry

Their bodies, earth and water

of a single orchard

But the wind tore the dress apart

– the stone is ravaged by the sea

The orchard though remains

Fruitless – yet every morning

finds its soil damp

The orchard waits

[from The lifesaver (To sossivio, 2008); translated by Panayotis Ioannidis and Stefanos Bacigkal]

E.S.

In May 1910 I painted a lot –

my twenty-year-old crotch in blue

and the bones of a beautiful woman

In May 1911 I painted again

my red eyes and holding a rose

the final Pierrot

In May 1912 I held my teacher

in my black hands

he simply laughed

In May 1913 I painted the city

colourful cards

picked from a dusty pack

In May 1914 blind mothers

dead mothers, living children

'till I learnt unexpectedly

in the blossoming May of 1915

the nun and funny cardinal's

surprisèd kiss

So in May 1916 I joined the army

but I always remembered

two identical women

In May 1917 I saw one lying down

the bedsheets around her

like fingers

Until in May 1918 in high fever

there finally flew out of me

that tree that had been struggling in the wind

[from The lifesaver (To sossivio, 2008); translated by Panayotis Ioannidis and Stefanos Bacigkal]

BEGINNING OF WINTER

The trees had stood in line

the rain wouldn't come

Autumn raised mutiny amongst the leaves

From high up it was clear that nine trees held

a fresh green rectangle –

still kept within their shade

a summer fragment

But there, angels of winter

came two woodpigeons

– white necklace on their rosy breast

There they planned out their life together

– at the end of summer the beginning of winter

[from The lifesaver (To sossivio, 2008); translated by Panayotis Ioannidis and Stefanos Bacigkal]

UNKNOWN INSECT

This summer I learned that I would die

Now the wall's coolness was a miracle

the water from the hose a gift on children's bodies

their skin – that every day clothed

a fresh agitation – made you wonder

Everything would become simple again

the courageous smile now useless

in the face of sorrow's ghost

Even though they were black harbingers

one random afternoon with a sore throat and indigestion

a small red rash – an unknown insect

Quietly we will close

as best we can

whatever had begun

[from Uncovered (Akalyptos, 2013); translated by Moira Egan]

SARABANDE

I

This black dress suffocates me

stiff collar

starch-white lace

The music is soiled

in sweating hands – only those

pale and still, over there

One folded

over the black shoulder, the other

rests at the waist. As I turn

slowly, I feel them

stronger 'round my neck

*

Cold marble

burning fire

cold heavy mirror. Only

the gold frame,

warm with light, with breaths,

responds

Black curved back

constantly changing

II

His narrow shoulders tight

in heavy silk

within the door-frame – the rain between us

Again his hands

one inside the other greeting

*

Inside the darkness so clearly

her dress draws water. From the edge

 rising – drowned

in the carriage

together drowned

III

Is she still white

again inside

the black dress

They bring her down

[from Uncovered (Akalyptos, 2013); translated by Adrianne Kalfopoulou]