Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II


Grant me, my Lord, a ripped page in every book and

this way I walked bravely like the corner of a house

at dawn or a woman who, with her breasts, pushes

sleep aside or the hands of the blind man conniving

          with the fog.

I could, truly, narrate a lot of stories but I’m thinking

to what end since even the most innocent word is

unfortunately a goodbye repeated a thousand times  

          just before the accident

and the server spat in the coffee so he could double

           his wages;

sleep with ravaged musical notes a mix up of dead


children’s letters to God thrown carelessly onto the


and the drunk man walks awkwardly not to step

           on them.

In the evening we gathered around the passing rhetor;

the light breeze stirred the fringes of his coat and

ah, perhaps, the secret was hidden in those few words;

           the truly five cents romance

while fame was always passing from the other road.

My story was simple, I was born about twelve thousand

             years ago

embarrassed as well, while my tea was getting cold on

             the other side of earth;

and he always searched persistently in the dark room

“you’ll find it”, I said to him “but what will you do

           after that?”



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