Yannis Stavrou, Piraeus, oil on canvas
The harbor is old, I can’t wait any longer
for the friend who left for the island of pine trees
or the friend who left for the island of plane trees
or the friend who left for the open sea.
I stroke the rusted cannons, I stroke the oars
so that my body may revive and decide.
The sails give off only the smell
of salt from the other storm.
* from Georgios Sepheris poem
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