Persephone’s Arithmetic

Poems of the Selection translated from the Greek by David Connolly

THE PUBLIC HOLIDAY

Everything is closed today.

The trees’ branches rustle in a child’s hands that never knew gifts.

Everything is closed today.

Behind the dream
A pharmacy
with white windows
red thoughts
and crossed planks
stoops, wants to talk to me.

PERSEPHONE’S ARITHMETIC

It was long said that he knew well
Persephone’s arithmetic.
No. He didn’t count
The swimmer who drowned
The excursion that burned.
He counted
The choice of the sea
The death of the choice.
He counted
He wrote
He didn’t write
He nourished
He reversed
A full moon
Dead.

THE PERFORMANCE

With dead dreams
I’ll go out to play again.
I’ll find something to wear
Whatever was left from the moon.
With my images
I’ll go out to play again.
I’ll find something in order to dance
Whatever was left of the darkness.

FOR NEW YEAR’S DECORATED SHIP

We seek to endure
The chillness in the theatre
The theatre of chillness
Perhaps our time is false
Perhaps the garden is closed
All who see us
return home
They allay their fear
slowly pronouncing
their names
– Yorgos
– Maria
– Eleusis
And yet
And yet
No one
No one remembers them.