19 Ιουλ 2008

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


Some thoughts reproduce themselves.
On certain days they are distinguished
by a different aspect of your talent,
a provocation: in daylight
for you to imagine darkness;
on neon signs everywhere
I’d read my irrevocable condemnation;
I’d see you wiping a tear away
in secret. Something inside me
had sentenced me for life.

*

You did me good by leaving.
And ever since you left
you’ve made me even better.

Arrogance and vanity
gave way
to solidarity, understanding
and absolution of all living beings.

Love had made me hoity-toity,
your rejection made me a psychiatrist.

*

I am envious of your get-togethers,
your lively semicircles. I am jealous
of him sitting opposite
your bare tits,
and you looking at him naked.

I am envious of the guitars, your songs,
the fire that lights your midnight
bathing. Any time now I’ll envy even your chat,
you’ll see!

*

I am writing on the verge
of desire, of despair,
when all remains in abeyance
uncertain and potential. I regard
writing as a substitute;
I sign on the crew of words.
Only words-cum-deck boys I enlist
who’ll pronounce my Greek in a foreign accent,
when our unique tongue will become
the world’s Esperanto.

*

So here I am, at the height
of summer, trying
to forget you after so many bloody scenes,
broken glasses, gaping
veins, on the island of Kos, refreshed
by the waves from the north
Aegean and shampooing my hair
with the ashes of the fire
that broke out on Chios two days ago,

in early January.