De XX Tristichs

A hallway of doors. A grandfather clock.
The woman came out naked, her hair wrapped in a towel.
She didn't look at the clock. It wasn't that.

*

I will bring this poem to an end

with an eyelash on your cheek

or a butterfly snarled in your hair.

*

You passed me a glass of water

into which you had secretly

dipped your finger.

*

They fed him honey, wine and cheese. They took him

to the arcades. In the hall of mirrors he saw

the young god, naked, his boots laced with gold.

*

Each night, as you close your eyes, the unnameable

stands naked by your bed. It gazes 

down at you and tells you everything.

*

Imagine the restaurant, halogen bright, the clash

of voices, the clash of dishes. Then silence as she
removes her shoes. As she begins to dance.

David Harsent, In Secret: Versions of Yannis Ritsos, Enitharmon, 2012