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.

arthistoryholidayplacespoliticallyric

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