Poem by Manolis Anagnostakis

THEY WERE YOUNG

The roads were dark and muddy

the food on the table scarce

the kiss by the front door stolen

and love locked in their little hearts

they were young, just children

and by chance they were of a good crop

they spent their nights in basement tavernas

and roamed the neighborhoods all night long

ah, those side streets and corners

how nicely they kept the honest words

they were young, just children

and by chance they were of a good crop

at home they knew no father, no mother

they didn’t care about anything

they never saved any coins in piggy-banks

they never held a measuring tape or compass

they were young, just children

and by chance they were of a good crop

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ALL WHO tried to look for us vanished on the way and

those who finally rediscovered us found a simple

            name written on the wall.

Yet those who accepted the heavy day kept us

             forever

like women hold a basket with swaddling clothes.

Until the day’s trial ended and the dusk arrived which

you get to know as the years pass.

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