The costume of Costas Uranis (1890 - 1953) is about simplifying the form, breaking the rhythm of certain places and creating your own music. In his poems there is a deliberate escape from reality, beyond which the sad pictures of dreamy memories and the eternal expectation of something better are revealed. A native poet and writer since he was little, he published his first poem ("Like a Dream") when he was 17.
I suggest a few later poems of his that showcase his talent and mastery of verse.

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It is unnecessary to wait at the front door for you,
to look out of sight at the streets numb.
She, should she come, will suddenly be reported,
without feeling her footsteps falter.


She will close gently with her beautiful hands
your eyes staring, irresistible.
"Who am I?" He asks, with a trembling heart
you knew her, you would whisper her dear name.


Needless to wait. If necessary, she alone
he will find you and lock you up at home,
arms outstretched, first she will hug you.


Your whole house may be lit for her,
when she shows up, chase her,
she won't, her back will turn you.




My God, this mourning winter night,
up into paradise, which is always an eternal spring,
your angels from the empty terraces are watching
how the earth silently rotates endlessly
and with white flowers they showered her continually;
My God, on this night, when you whirl
as sinners who are not accepted by the tomb,
think of the ones that litter in the rag
they are sleeping because they will have to gather strength again
to endure yesterday's grief tomorrow…


My God, put a human heart in your chest,
think this night about elderly poets,
at whose door the glory does not knock,
think of those who build everything with love,
but their fate as an evil wind overthrows them;
and for those who are tired of waiting
so desirable Tomorrow that will not come;
think about the crazy good guys,
and for all the people mocked by life,
patients with years of dying every day,
ugly girls who love to shed,
without finding anyone to love them;
theses that work to bless others,
humble, kind and persecuted people,
whose tears are dry from crying long ago,
think, oh God, of doomed people,
that you always have to drag in your churches,
to ask for mercy, comfort from you,
and their poor voice is so overwhelming,
that you can barely hear it from your sky high…


God, look at all the unhappy for no reason,
don't send them happiness anymore - in return,
it cannot redeem their suffering!
But when they sleep deep tonight,
sent death to enter their poor houses,
but slowly, but gently - not to wake them,
reduced as a sister over them, not as a mother,
that he hugs the mother desperately and strongly -
let them kiss their closed lips
and with his kiss let him take their breath away.


My God, this mourning winter night,
in the paradise where only eternal spring exists,
your angels from the empty terraces are watching
to the earth and sprinkle it with white flowers,
into the paradise where your chosen ones arrive,
God, you do not accept the poor dead,
ordered them to bury them deep in the dust,
sleep there forgotten by everything and by you!




When is the time to open the canvas?
Forward, to the Amazon on counter waves!
Two or three ports will we just remember
and will our days still be stagnant?


The wave like in the sand erases the traces -
so aspire new hearts tired to pour.
It is a lie that we are late in our day.
Let the soul as a banner wander.


A nicer life we ​​can start,
instead of fading as a torn color.
Let's go after those sailors who,
losing their homeland, they found the whole world.




When it was supper, in my room slowly
you came, pressing your face against me.
He stared at me: “My dear, tell me,
when I die, will you come to my grave cold? ”


And I was squeezing your weak body in a nervous fever.
I did not respond. I couldn't contain my cry.
With a hug, I wanted to keep you alive
or at your death, if I may, accompany you.


That you were my life and meaning and consolation мен
And as I look back in my past,
another image I didn't find so close and familiar.


And it seemed to me, I will not live without you…
Now that I've lost you, I can see in silence the quiet,
that very quickly, dear, I have come to terms with your death.

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