Gedicht
Titos Patríkios
VERSES, 2
Verses that howlverses that rise, as if they’re bayonets
verses that threaten the established order
and in their few feet
make or break the revolution –
useless, false, boastful
because today no verse topples regimes
no verse mobilizes the masses.
(What masses? now, between us –
who thinks of the masses?
at most a personal deliverance, if not recognition)
That’s why I no longer write
in order to offer paper guns
weapons made of babbling, hollow words.
But only to lift up a small corner of the truth
to cast a little light on our counterfeit life.
As much as I can, as long as I endure.
© Translation: 2005, Kimon Friar
VERSES, 2
© 1963, Titos Patríkios
From: Mathitia
Publisher: Kedros, Athens
From: Mathitia
Publisher: Kedros, Athens
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VERSES, 2
From: Mathitia
VERSES, 2
Verses that howlverses that rise, as if they’re bayonets
verses that threaten the established order
and in their few feet
make or break the revolution –
useless, false, boastful
because today no verse topples regimes
no verse mobilizes the masses.
(What masses? now, between us –
who thinks of the masses?
at most a personal deliverance, if not recognition)
That’s why I no longer write
in order to offer paper guns
weapons made of babbling, hollow words.
But only to lift up a small corner of the truth
to cast a little light on our counterfeit life.
As much as I can, as long as I endure.
© 2005, Kimon Friar
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