after the weeping meadow

macau ghetto©papa osmubal

macau ghetto©papa osmubal

after the weeping meadow
iris fan

streams cut the fields
soon church, ghettoes…
all will be half gone
under the river

black sail is the sign of
eternal exile
no use to change for
the one belonging nowhere
for the one to whom
nowhere belongs

no depending on a red thread
to guide your beloved back
of course it can’t be held
of course the end is lost

wind humming through the accordion
reciting a line from Ritsos
‘each one of us travels to love alone’
the square of meadow in your hand
is what I’m holding on to


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