Andreas Georgallides studied Pedagogical Sciences, History and Archaeology and Philosophy at the University of Cyprus. He followed postgraduate studies in Philosophy (DEA) at the University of Paris I-Panthéon-Sorbonne (France) and then received his PhD in Philosophy from the University of Sussex (UK). He has published seven poetry collections that have been translated in sixteen languages. Additionally, he has written and translated books and articles on philosophy, and has edited collections. He was awarded, among others, in 2019 in France, the Silver Medal from the Academy of Sciences, Letters and Arts; in 2021 in Italy, the Gold Medal Kimerik; in 2022 the Grand Prix de la Francophonie from the Association of Poets, Painters and Writers of France; in 2022, the Premio Biennale Internazionale di Poesia from the Publisher Il Filo di Arianna, and the International Award Claude Sorel 2022 from the Association of French speaking Writers and Poets.
So I send
a window of emptiness
to the silence of silence.
Let the receiver try
to read
this blank page
and with patience
to count
its so many non-existent words.
Nobody went to the concert.
But the soloist performed
as if two humanities were present
The applause was heard, it is still heard…
The apostates of this sound
would have very much liked to be present
Nobody went to the concert.
But the soloist performed
He was once led to a forest
with trees - ideas
and birds - that didn’t fly.
He breathed the light of her eyes
and travelled his silence just
enough to hear it.
The moon a void-light
and my skies forgotten
silenced in the space of sound.
The birds’ voices
tell of the meeting
and the rustling leaves
invalidate the vast distances
I unfold irresolutely and ill-timed am still stalwart
not reckoning on time chattering to the winds.
As long as the leaves rustling
doesn’t become a racket,
I’ll listen.
I add, a little sky to my thought
and travel - there, where I define myself.
I am locked in inhospitable seas
and lure the waves into the temple of silence.
Multitude of roles.
But you know that,
I exist as long as I don’t take part in myth.
Multitude of roles.
But I know that,
the best observer
doesn’t see only with his eyes.
The night lightly dozes
in the candle’s embrace.
Its meeting with the moon, humbug.
It’s the abandonment that brings the pain!
I am writing about this moon
that has never appeared.
About a colourless waiting.
No ticket was issued for me.
But I went on the journey
anyway, even without luggage.
Goodnight!
Those autumn leaves;
the wind’s never taken them...
