Languid Salonikan dusk
What were you doing at my father’s grave
You are still shining lean moon
And my old man is watching you ecstatic
Through the café’s open window
Burst in gulls, silly bletherers
Quaff his coffee
He laughs under the moustache he doesn’t have
A brandy would do the trick for the night to glow
Gulp after gulp and it’s a long way home
Let him get drunk, let him reel
Let him fall down dead
His is the path on which he sleepwalks
His is the death running after him
And he zigzagging along, specs upon his nose
Day is just a dizzy spell, an amorous woman
Night is blackish melancholy

He screwed them both with his soul

– –


Though the angel was not hiding
Only his voice was heard saying in brief
Bend over and look in the cistern
The weather is making an erotic bed for you
The body relaxes its pleasant days
With songs and old instruments
Of fancies you came to love

There’s this life full of yearning
From morning till night, beloved body
It offers you a pop a tangerine an apple
In splendid Turkish baths old dears
With drooping tits and empty pouches
Purify you on marble slabs with loofahs and soap
Longing eases and the angel dances in the steaming waters
– –


The lady is sitting alone on the balcony
Drinking Coca-Cola

What is it that refreshes her?

Everything across the way is shut
She has nothing to look at
And the heat makes this lady even more alone

She casts frequent glances
At the needlework on the table
With its mazy designs

Her head’s in an ancient whirl

When her elbow slips off the table
She takes fright
For the dream she’s about to see
Is that the Vardar* will carry her off
Together with the balcony

Naturally she’d opt for a boatman
Who used to take her across the water
To the opposite shore
Where she found her lover
Waiting for her
In a blue wonder

*A wind blowing from the north into Thessaloniki.
– –


Luckily it’s getting dark again tonight
My mosaic kitchen floor
Is already showing midnight
With that glorious black and white

An almond falls to the floor
I scrabble about for it on the black and white
(The touch of things always tends towards black)

My feet are caught in a trap

I want to see you truly suffer
You still have a cold tearful look
A spurious smile
Sit by me and tell me what you see
In the old mirror

All the church bells are ringing Christmas
And I’ve nothing else to live for
Except a taste of blood that I refuse to drink
If nothing else, it was I who threw my body
Into love where now it rots
With logic and discretion, with divine acceptance

Madness is something you learn in a jiffy.

100 Greek Poets of the Modern Era- An Anthology by Yannis Goumas
Coming Soon by ΣΑΙΞΠΗΡΙΚΟΝ!