My little Antoinette,
my gorgeous brunette,
you did not fool me,
I know that you got the key,
the key that opens the door to the past.
A past in which alas,
I lost you forever…
It seems that forever does not mean never….
It was forty years ago,
where from the ship's bow,
I was watching you on the pier crying,
because you were realizing
that our love was dying….
I was leaving away,
going to California Harbor Bay
and who knows where after that ..
The round earth seemed to me flat,
because for years our ship would never come to an end,
so I lost you, just like every friend....
But tell me, how do you remain the same?
How does your love keep the same flame?
Please do not tell me that I'm dreaming,
not now that hope and happiness are teaming.
* Extract from "The Broken Mooring Line", an experiential
poetic work // page c // e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org //
Texts and Narration: Odysseus Heavilayias - ROTTERDAM //
Language adjustments and text adaptation: Kellene G Safis - CHICAGO//
Digital adaptation and text editing: Cathy Rapakoulia Mataraga - PIRAEUS