The events that followed his revolutionary ardour and all the changes that took place, most importantly the decay of human values and the spread of consumerism, didn’t stop him from overcoming his personal trials and becoming the expression of his era. Thus, he opened a passage toward the future light using his past experiences, the lost vision and his infinite nostalgia, and he reached his apex in his latest books where he enclosed all he had planned to reveal in verse:
And perhaps this is the unsaid: as if someone close to your cries,
one you’ll never see, nor will he ever meet you.
But at night, when you both come back together, you
Open the door to the old room.
I was so afraid that when they took something
From me, I felt grateful
They at least left me with their memory.
Livaditis’ poetry is alive, as is the memory of him. It is poetry open to the populace, addressed to those who walk toward new eras, to those who at least can grasp his warning:
Ah, life! A stranger’s hat we put on hastily
in the panic of the bombing.
~ Spiros Katsimis
Manolis Aligizakis 