Now all the flowers become blue.
Salty the kisses I give to the wind.
Illusions those green, beloved eyes.
Every night I find my dreams
have run offshore.
Sometimes in the Indian Ocean
sometimes in a Caribbean sea
or out of port in Dubai.
Lifesavers stay beside them
but they do not copy the signals.
I wish I was a dragon in Canton
chrysanthemum in Kyoto.
I wish I was a fellah in Port Said
a meridian in the parallels of your glance.
Every time I need you to take my life away
to finding you
in a handful of fresh water reflecting.
To seeing you
in a misty meadow rising.
Dimitris Varos
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