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Ortygia
How long I’m standing here on Ortygia?
Remain motionless
under the hot sun.
Looking like a marble kouros
with broken hands.
I search the wind
for the cool breeze of Aegean,
the sweet smell of Delos
which gave its name to this place.
I have to caress the Doric columns
in temples of Apollo,
Athena and Artemis.
I have to easy their eternal nostalgia.
But the source of Arethusa
brings black water from Alpheus today.
Olympia is being burned
and my heart comes out of me
falls on the asphalt
and breaking in pieces.
Gods!
What the barbarians doing again
in our homeland,
while we’re standing here?
You as bare models for tourists
and me like a marble kouros
with broken hands.
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