Blank Canvas Poem by Anastasia Paraskevoulakou

A frozen winter, the living room.
The canvas remains blank.
The columbines, just two weeks old,
escape the ruin.
Things sunk in water,
lasting a moment,
rootless,
independent of sadness,
singular or plural.
As many hours as you are missing,
I sleep in this corner.
I cancel daily life;
I am a city of faceless buildings.
I drive away the birds within me;
I fear I may become a tree
and be deprived of human beings.

translated from Greek by Depsina L. Crist and Robert Crist