You are the eyes of my face
face of my body
the body of my soul, you are
my naked he song,
soul of this book of mirrors
book of life of a trivial being
a trifle life of writings
endures my écritures of love

the Colosseum is made of famish eyes
taste my love of musings
of mes amours et
caresses,
dream of what has not been conceived
dancing shamrocks and harps
my mercies’ mercy and mercis joining in a lemma,
king, or lion, or frivolous miracle
until tomorrow, to sorrow and joy we walk

consume me, it hurts to be alive

*Από τη συλλογή “PAIN PERDU – ερωτικοί στίχοιτου παρμένου και του άπαρτου”. Εκδ. Αφροδίτη
(Μελβούρνη, 2013)