Kariotakis Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story


I want to leave this place, to go far away

I want to become golden dust in the air

simple element, free, brave

to an unfamiliar new land I’ll go

where things of the world will appear

like dreams and they’ll talk to the soul

where the nice faces of people will smile

and where I too shall be beautiful

where, my god, darkness wouldn’t exist

in the night, nor in the despair of the place

upon the horrible skyline or in the wind’s wailing

nor in the glances or words of people

where there won’t remain anything

but a little joy and satisfaction

where all will say that they have left forever

that perhaps they are all already dead.