I shall drink ouzo beneath the vine-covered arbor of a taverna.

Far away, on the edge of a beautiful disorder
of rooftops washed by moonlight,
I caught sight of the Parthenon
asleep in the meditative slumber of an owl.

We astonished the gods upon the waters of the Aegean.
The islands open their legs to utopias.

Greece may have grown old,
yet one would never say so
while flying above the sea.

We see her fashioned from adolescent bodies,
their flesh tinged with a vivid pink,
their limbs intertwined,
their skin covered with a velvet down.

I do not know whether it is battle or something else:
these bodies sleep after love.

This is what the sight of the islands suggests,
seen from above—
this is what reaches us:

a living tangle that is never unraveled,
a disorder of backs, shoulders, and knees.

Now and then a sleeping woman,
stretching out her leg,
or a sleeping man his arm,
laces the island's edge with delicate contours.

It is evident that these entwined bodies
are not warriors
confused in death.

No. This resembles nothing else
that can be spoken of
except precisely what I tell you:

a constellation of thighs and hips,
enough to make us believe
that even sin has its paradise.

Such, at least, is the image of the islands
beneath our wings.

Body against body, asleep—
who are these boys?
Who are these girls?

No one.
This is simply how the islands are made.

For we also encountered
a procession of gods
that concealed from us
the incomprehensible mystery.

Their bodies too were intertwined,
but of snow and alabaster,
an army of shining forms.

Shining, sacred,
making their way toward the mountain
where, we are told,
they taste honeyed sweets,
drink honey,
deceive their companions,
and fall asleep
among the meanders of the capitals.

Gods and men inhabit the same dwelling,
and from time to time
they meet upon the staircase.

This is Greece:
where gods and men converse,
or travel together,
putting in at the islands.

All this is guided
by the ribbed metal of a helmet.

All this is guided
by the iron of a spear.

All this is guided
by a turbulent lady,
motionless,
with eyes as blue
as the waters of the sea.