George Seferis – Collected Poems

XXII
Why so many things have passed before our eyes
that we never saw anything, but beyond
and behind, memory was like the white sheet, one night
in an enclosure
where we saw strange visions, even more strange than you
to pass by and vanish amid the motionless foliage of
a pepper tree;
because we know this fate of ours so well
sauntering among the broken rocks, three or six
thousand years
searching in collapsed buildings that perhaps were
our homes
trying to remember dates and heroic deeds
will we be able?
Because we were bound and scattered
and we fought against nonexistent difficulties as they said
lost, yet finding again a path full of blind regiments
sinking in the marches and in the lake of Marathon
will we be able to die as is expected of us?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Antony Fostieris – Selected Poems

Logic you are the End
Logic, you are my end and
the world’s end
a long-ago dried river that waters
many unsuspecting souls that trust you.
A bird flies from tree to tree
foolish in its life that it ignores
and will never learn to live in the sweet blue.
The light shines a cheap paleness of darkness
the biggest hairpiece of everything.
God or man?
Neither one nor the other
not a worm in piles of dirt
nor an eagle,
time playing on stage disguises
millions of faces in the bloody drama.
How pitiful:
the only being of earth can’t
suspect its own unique nature.
Logic, you are the end before your end
path that leads to the desert
where monsters await to devour us.
A bird frenetically fluttering its wings warns us:
death quite certainly waits for us.
Who does it warn, what does it know, what can it say
the most absurd is a child of logic and
everything goes through logic and
become broken forms and scattered letters
and the ego rides on the You and on the That
a fleshy mass on the before and after
a stony and airy, nylon mass
a long-ago dried river that echoes
everything is a mass in the sweet blue.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763653

Orange

Neutral
Neutral colour of the page
before the words
inviolable void
uncommitted absence
plan for a dream
unrealized
before your hand
takes the pencil and
draws emptiness
on the whitewash page
like the immaculate skin
of a conflagrated woman
you touch
painting of a mountain peak
adorned by snow
and you say,
before I write a single word
the poem sings eloquently

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763750