- The Stork Poem by Georgios Venetopoulos

The ship extended huge, outside the dew,

his past, he thought, conducted on her track,

across the board, the skyline folded dark,

- a stork he was or member of the crew?


Thus, curiously stood upon the moors,

an epitome of time to e'er rejoice,

but stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed his voice,

or was the dusk that realness allures?


Upon the moors he stood, irresolute,

side-gazing for the sunken to discern

meanwhile the seamen deftness and concern

applied the coloring of nightly soot.


The dusk abraded, thus, the ship's details;

all shapes in numbness stood; without a word

the nighttime, condescending, linked the bird

with time's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.


The boats, directed randomly to trip,

loose wooden cradle-coffins in the bay,

surreal, formed a definite array,

where timely margins, undulating, reap.


(Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,

for spotless angel forms to fly in blue,

the stork recalls the one-time rendezvous,

- this nightly ship, shall take his soul to fares.


Perchance they fled to skies - two passing glows

that cut through distances, in ardent Spring

a song for wanderers, harmonic link,

- pure emeralds the shoreline noon bestows.)


What foolishness of storks invites the ship,

our lives to marry on the silent quays

meanwhile four smoking ebon funnels praise

our wraiths' long flight on everlasting trip?