Nikos Engonopoulos | Voices
Nikos Engonopoulos, 'Orpheus' (1957) to André Breton through the closed shutters in the yellow blaze of the afternoon – when the statues keep silent and the myths concur – the voices quiver first feebly slowly and then thunderously and fast in the alley and suddenly they reveal the age-old secrets at times – of course – they are terrible and dreadful like graves and then at times affectionate like graves again and like the caress of long thin fingers and they call each thing by its name they call water from the tap a mouth the tall black trees they call oblivion the night in the gullies Omphali they call the weeping trees a woman-friend the cool carmine lips they name leaves the amorous teeth a demon dream the crimson beds of love they call abyss the black harbour waters an oil lamp and they call the rusty moorings of dream a lament they lay colourful plumes upon...