About Cyprus

Cyprus is an oval island state with a north-eastern peninsula. It lies in the eastern Mediterranean, to the south of Turkey, south-east of mainland Greece and west of Syria. Cyprus’s rocky coast has long, sandy beaches. It has two ranges of mountains in the north and south, with a flat low-lying plain in between.

Find out more about Cyprus




Greek Turkish


1.2 million (2022)



High Commissioner

H.E. Mr Andreas S. Kakouris



Joined Commonwealth

1961, a year after independence from Britain

Episode guests

Dr Marios Psaras

Dr Marios Psaras

Cultural Counsellor at the Cyprus High Commission in London

SCRUPLE (excerpt)

by Stella Voskaridou

Second chapter: from the stage I can see you better


(The curtain rises, enter white horses dragging the apotheosis of

scented potentialities with their hindlegs)


There was once a lass –

if you would just let me explain –

there was once a lass who mayn’t

eye the light


(And here a horse misses a step, then stands

again, self-indulgently shaking its mane)


There was once a lass who planted duskTrees

then sate in their shadow

and the T’s were no longer T’s

they too were duskTrees and both of their branches high

up stretched

and stretched out

and extended

and as they extended –

will you just let me explain –

and as they extended

it smelled like darkness


Only with a fearful scruple does darkness fall, sir

don’t mind them

the night is just a rumour


(The horses go on rampage, potentiality shines with purple sparks)


I can’t hear this word again –

Please! –

Scruple, my foot!

S… sc… urple…

– you won’t admit it! But

you’re frightened of those mere suspension points!

you’re sickened

having to look at a slight anagram – Scurple

and a few dots

scurple it is, then!

Scurple and thrice scurple! From now I will

call you ScurplE!


by Avgi Lilli

Translated by Despina Pirketti

At dawn a


time took me

from behind dragging

his frayed leash

I brought water, food

and stretched my palm

for him to sniff but

he wouldn’t eat nor drink

nor my palm

he asked for three letters

on his left ear eight digits

inscribed on the skin

Can Love Fail?

he barked Canis Lupus Familiaris I refused

eighty million two hundred and twelve

thousand times

we say we die, but

each time we are born and breath out

once more.