5 Ιουλ 2008

"Sotiris Pastakas : The Isle Of Chios (2002)" [Translated by Yannis Goumas - 2008]


Croissant of a body,
between a sip of coffee
and a cigarette puff.
All the earlier
we arranged our rendezvous,
from noon and afternoon
to nine in the morning.

We can all be gods
for just one night.

*
“You’ve only yourself to contend with,”
you’d say. “Forget the rivals in love.
You should compete with yourself;
it’s yourself you must outdo.”
I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand.
Emotionally I was an ignoramus,
and still am. Exceed myself?
Beat myself? And what will become of me?

*

I am not talking about love.
Who am I to talk about love?
I know nothing, as indeed all
of you now reading me!

Ignorant and unread, sorrow took me along,
and I passed through the Gate.
I boasted knowing it
before I knew the feeling!

Ah, the big words,
the cries of wonder,
how gently they bend and sprinkle
the unfulfilled vow!

*
Despair is not yet sorrow.
It is anger, revenge,
word-of-mouth lava and the hand
I offer you to grasp,
and be drawn close to me again.

Firefly of dawn
my sacrament,
black quill of mine
don’t get me wrong: I want you
very much alive, that’s why
my anger inundates you.

*

I lost a lot of weight in a few days.
I don’t know exactly how much. I’m not
really sure of the number of kilos.

I can only tell by the clothes I wear,
and the shared opinion of friends:
“What’s wrong with you? Are you ill?”

Would that my complaint had such a common
name as diabetes, melanoma,
paranoia. It won’t be said
that it is Love; no one speaks
of such illness.