dimitris p. kraniotis

Poems by Dimitris P. Kraniotis translated into English
In a flash

You violated the borders
which buried their
know thyself,
you destroyed prisons
behind curtains
turned ablaze by
the spark of your anger,
without cries,
without whispers,
in a flash,
that simple it was,
you gave birth to light
when you embraced
what isn’t told
(although written)
in darkness.



We ’re naked now,
we donned the colors,
undressed words and voices,
we ’re blind now,
we drank the light,
swam in death,
with alcohol and tobacco
in our luggage
we testified falsely,
forgetting who we are
we built our life on a bird
and we flew again,
simply we moved.


To the dead poet of obscurity
(In honour of the dead unpublished poet)

Well done!
You have won!
You should not feel sorry.
Your unpublished poems
-always remember-
have not been buried,
haven’t bent
under the strength of time.
Like gold
inside the soil
they remain,
they never melt.
They may be late
but they will be given
to their people
to offer their sweet,
eternal essence.



Noiseless wrinkles
on our forehead
the frontiers of history,
shed oblique glances
at Homer’s verses.
full of guilt
wounded whispers
that became echoes
in lighted caves
of the fools and the innocent.


Fictitious line

of cigarettes
and mugs
full of coffee,
to the fictitious line
where the eddy
of words
leans against
and nods,
to my silence.


The end

The savour of fruits
still remains
in my mouth,
but the bitterness of words
demolishes the clouds
and wrings the snow
counting the pebbles.
But you never told me
why you deceived me,
why with pain
and injustice did you desire
to say that the end
always in tears
is cast to flames.



The fireplace
was eager
to put a fullstop,
in the sentence
where the road
of my dreams
upon the word of happiness
with sparkles
of wet logs
I collected
from the inside of me
that I dared
to turn to ashes.


Sinful corners

“St. Nicon Repent-Υe”
on the calendar
of a cloudy morning,
with the rain to persist,
determined to wash away
the Erinyes of guilts,
victories and defeats
in sinful corners
of pavements and rooms,
of minor moments
and of similar, too.


Stolen receivers

Engraved rocks
with pictures
of intense feelings,
naked wood-frames
with paintings
of faceless garments,
delusions in succession
of inactive volcanoes,
fields under extinction
of childhood
furious wounds
in set-up trials
and we, command-givers,
stolen ideas receivers.



In the middle of the road
I came across
an old mistake of mine
and I went past it.
I rushed
to repeat myself.



is the life of victory.
in the mud of the mistakes,
in the mud of the tarmac.



A roar of cars
seals the dawn
with short-cut answers,
with unyielding denials
that are repeated
every sunset.



Fragments of glasses
in the empty room
of the inarticulate whispers,
our limits,
with sores
the caress of our soul.


Rules and visions

Life counts
the rules;
the sunset, their exceptions.
Rain drinks up
the centuries;
spring, our dreams.
The eagle sees
the sunrays
and youth, the visions.



Snow-covered mountains,
ancient monuments,
a north wind that nods to us,
a thought that flows,
images imbued
with hymns of history,
words on signs
with ideals of geometry.


To you I speak

To you I speak,
do not show indifference.
This moment
to me
is mighty.
I am happy.
These words I uttered
and all were sad.
They left,
heads down.


One-word garments

Waves of circumflexes,
storms of adverbs,
windmills of verbs,
shells of signs of ellipsis,
on the island of poems
of soul,
of mind,
of thought,
one-word garments
you wear
to endure!



The cloud struggled
against the sand
underneath the rain
of “no” and “yes”,
forcefully treading
on the rationale
that obeys
the impasse of “maybe”.


What I ask

A ball of threads
my prayers
Foolish “I” s
are choked
without you ever
what I ask.


The “don’ts” and “zeros”

The night
that strangled
the endless moments
I had wished
to live,
passed by
without my lighting up
the candle
I had longed
to warm up
all the “don’ts” and “zeros”.


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