• the chasm / distance between
the setting sun
and snowy meanings
I name “mouth about to speak”
• a long corridor
leads to the start of wandering
• a child is gathering acorn
strewn on the ground, I say
“the strangers have forgotten me tonight”
• on Sundays there is no one
except me
(then I remember that I resemble them)
• “yellow shirt pegged
on a clothesline”
a fat woman hung me to dry
• time slows down
the fewer colours you see
(on white stops black)
• the wind is blowing
drops form in the air
“dangling, frozen drops”
• smaller the frame
more cobalt blue
• I continue that the earth
shall not dry on my heels
• not a word beyond the painter’s paintbrush
neither “I know” nor “I want”
anything may be happening outside
• winter may eventually come to an end
• I doubt it
• houses, streets, cars
no, only yellow “trees”
• the guards are depressed
the guards are asleep
• I am not in a hurry;
if I leave the hall of paintings
I’ll still be a visitor
• do figures on paintings
observe us?
• I would like to be “woman lying down”
or “nude”, pencil on paper;
I would be something – specific
• the exhibition will last until the spring;
wandering till its end
Natalie Katsou
© translation by Yannis Goumas
Clippings
I
instantaneous white
again
between one night and another
– as a crack in the French window
will allow
and the opening of eyesight
II
unveil the only eyelid
my clam
that the after-sleep-day
shall melt
inside you
never mind if some lecithin
of the sort you suckled
spills scalding on the floor
there’ll always be someone
to chisel it
before it petrifies
III
(every silence explodes one day)
IV
There is no sky
and what we call stars
are nothing but teeth;
they sprang out of the mouths
of whomever dared
speak;
they were embedded in time
Natalie Katsou
© translation by Yannis Goumas