The wet eaves shine in the moonlight.The women wrap themselves in their shawls. They hurry to hide indoorsIf they linger on the threshold a moment longer, the moon will see them cry.He suspects within every mirrorAnother woman, transparent, shut outAmidst her nakedness,However much you want to wake her, she does not wake.She fell asleep smelling a star.And he smells the very same star, staying awake.

Translated from Greek by Pilo Zyba