Greek Avant Garde Poetry


Theodore Skourlis


In each stone there is a little Sun 

that flows the times playing with them 

with the colors of their fears.

So many small Suns as the stones. 

Times are their fathers who bore them

and leave now persecuted by their children

falling on plains

or enslaved to walls

unable to seek salvation.

What  craftsman will be able to save them

with hammers and drills and other tools

without a myth?

The small Suns are laughing in the darkness of stone

and mock the night stars 

that sit bare in heights

without an embrace to warm them,

without their fathers the times

to roll them playing 

with the colors of their  fears.

Without a stepmother stone.

(Transl. Panos Bosnakis)