Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II




However something worse happened: I had to be in

the hallway at regular times; there was a vague accusation

            without any witnesses,

without proofs, almost without a victim;

besides, haven’t I been under uninterrupted surveillance

for years otherwise what would I need all these


They were coming in the house each night and that explains

            all the floor creaking

a mysterious murder by the many things that had fallen

            off your hands,

doors you opened hastily or perhaps auntie Eudoxia, who

applied make up at her old age and if you made fun of her

she would go to the side and cry silently, since then I owe

           her all the tears

or that fake coin you threw in the hat of the blind, perhaps

he exchanged it with his whole hand,

or my childhood friend with who each evening we divided

          the world; though I always cheated him

as I waited to be called “it’s my turn” I begged them

although, even here, someone else would take my place;

“there is no skylight” someone said and I calmed him

down “there is one since you’re lost” I said to him;

every so often people opened the door and looked

          at me until blood appeared;

finally they took me “name please”, “assholes, pigs”

I said to them “if I didn’t have a name I wouldn’t be

here”, “and how did you kill your father?”

“I, my father?” But when I started recalling I suddenly

understood how mysterious my past was “they fooled me”

I yelled “someone else lived my life”

           then the next witness came in,

the wretched man, who accused me of debauchery “pity”

I said to him “I was the one who took off my cloths and

covered the gallows so you wouldn’t see it”

and as evening came they brought big candlesticks

           from other eras

since those days I had no corpse to prepare for the night

until finally he appeared, the one who would be

responsible for my defence, as they said; I knew him

but didn’t remember accurately in which life I met him

“are you the distributor” I asked “no I’m the inheritor”

he says, such inexplicable words, perhaps to all who are

          afraid of words

and only after the murder you learn who you are.



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