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Nykteri 2.

I call you Nykteri
because you are by night
more than by day a sight,
a touch, intoxicating;
a whiff of your perfume,
a drink of your soft lips
and I am drunk with love
as we our cocktails sip
beneath the colourful bark of trees
endemic not to our home;
eucalyptus, cypress, tamarisk,
araucaria and yet more unknown

Nykteri, night-wine, feel the breeze
which from the ocean finds you here
and plays with your golden hair
while I, quite bothered, you, at ease
leave the bar to take a stroll
along the beach, acrpss the lava sand –
(I wish to lay you down but know I can’t) –
Nykteri – look, the cactus is in bloom;
unlike us it is here quite at home
and flourishing in heat which we
can hardly survive by day,
and therefore instead by night
venture, as now, outside
to see the barren landscape
formed long ago by volcanoes
where little grow and each plant seems a treasure;
each flower a source of endless pleasure

Nykteri – I am drunk with you,
as you say goodnight, disappear
behind your door – in there
where I can’t reach you anymore.
As I walk home in darkest night
where not a bird is heard,
with a striped cat as only company,
I feel it might be both
a blessing and a curse indeed
to love you;
nothing is ever clearly black or white
when drunk with you, Nykteri

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