No one.
No one, there,
when, out of the blue,
you opened the eyes.

No one, but me:
the glance was I,
the eye next to the eye
you opened bitterly
at your most deep fear of yours.

Only me,
I stood by you,
for I saw:
you were the disordered act
of the day, as the sea
at its white heights.

With your lips
you poured out
of the pins of the night:
tear.

With your tear
you redeemed
the kiss, the kiss
of mine, heading straight to
your name.

Because you asked for the word
and I gave it to you.

For it was the word, you
wanted instead of the eyelids
as the shadow of water
relaxing your fitful
eye, helpless
at the vibrations of the flowers,
your new eye.

And there was no one,
no one, there,
when you looked
for the first and the last
time.

It wasn’t but me,
only me,
who kissed you,
you know that now
you know I am still
the eye next to your eye,
you know I am the suite
recalling your night,
for I am what I was:
the word that will always miss,
that word, you know
that you die to kiss it.

(Translated from Greek by Adamantia Panagopoulou.)