Dimitis Kosmopoulos was born in 1964 in Kontodogoni (Papaflessa) Pylia in Messinia. He grew up in Kalamata and lives in Athens. He has published essays and translations in periodicals and newspapers and his poems have been translated into French and Italian. Night Birds is his third book of poetry.
Dimitris Kosmopoulos, Night Birds, Kedros 2005, pp.42-3
Each to his own tree.
Yet without you how? I became shade with no tree
and the more I searched for roots, the more I was rent by winds
Each to his own night enfolding him.
Yet I was becoming a combustible droplet, night’s erosion
without you who curves the night into an embrace
and love’s dome
These are my voice’s bones. Charred.
Inside charcoal and ash.
With a stone hand – who are you? – I bring them to you
Who are you? I opened my eyes
and saw beating on the light-devouring soil
the double-edged wings
Ancient liberty, river. Plain recollection
of my death, in this way I recognized you
Like dampness time fell upon the wall and
opposite your form frittered away
My old decayed fresco
And with me gone. It was then I recognized you – who are you? –
from the voice’s bones and the extinguished candles.