Calligraphy of waves

Fokas Nikos poetry
Summer '99

With my own free will, each morning I create
The vineyards and the olive groves as though on a black canvas,
– Just like a painter, leaving no gaps. From time to time
A colorful bird (that too my own invention)
Falls heavily on the foliage.
Like a kite out of the stillness.

Other creations, (open sea, sky, mountain slopes,
Visages of this land, parents and friends)
Through my free will they all appear perfectly natural
– While the breeze (yet another invention of mine)
Drifting across the face of the sea
Ruffles in places the seamless serenity. (...)

Translation: Nikos Fokas & Don Schofield and John Theocharis