Achilles Katsaros









The woman with the butterflies comes out from the sea

She keeps loneliness like Jupiter’s thunderbolt

The stones as we keep the pebbles

such as mothers little kids  the words embrace


Chrysalides in her death do not have.

She rides the black bull and flies

like a kiss that comes up to the silence.






In the butterfly’s mirror you can see the words

Of the ungirths


It is a huge path to restore the water

The apple is clean


Clean as the fallen

So you stick with the dream.


Echoes of daemonic firebirds

Grass the sonata that worth’s


It is a mouth you can slaughter


Unconditionally pancreas or spleen

Love or death seems like ethylene glycol.






The grandmother was a river I remember

She told us stories about peaches and roses

The world has changed a lot since then

Added engines and bodies were cold.


The air was blowing and it was blowing and taking

Her grandmother’s hat and mother picked up the cherries

They had fallen and she said to the grandmother:

What will these be in the next life?


And the grandmother danced and sang

She never answered

And she was never there

Like poetry that is not anywhere

And yet it is everywhere.










Biographical Note:


Achilles Katsarós (1976-) was born in Ioannina, Epirus.   He graduated from the University of Athens, Dept. of Literature.  Author of fourth books of poems.  He lives in Athena.


Articles similaires