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Οι Σταθμαρχες

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From the CD "Panta Kati Menei"

Station Chiefs

With a tulle fabric the screen adorned,

TV was a bride veiled in the lies.

How to read if the love has mellowed

to someone she always crucifies?

My palm has no lines to show

to you my fate as to many others.

I'm a gold digger, one of dozens

standing in front of a dried-out flow.

The station chiefs are guarding borders

like maitre-d-hotels without mercy:

expired tickets that lost their fancy

they are - or battles lost and forgotten.

Over my bottle I recited coolly

to you my monologues in a breathless

role-playing, only scared of silence

and of a move the trigger pulling.

Your memory has come from a hollow

that years have eaten in my story.

Your name is now to me foreign

in one of the Babylon's lost corners.

In a train from Patra we had arrived.

With every turn you changed the topic.

I knew: the love for me's not stopping.

But to the stars I went flying high.


(This is NOT a translation,

just a play of imagination,

or a voice of a Babylon's ghost,

before the meanings got lost...)

You said: translation is a game

that intellectuals are playing...

Or is it a battle when words are slaying

their counterparts - but look the same?

They penetrate the skins of the perished,

but souls cannot be repeated.

That's all you want: not to be beaten.

Imagination so famished

will not create a life from nothing.

The battle is lost, your time expired:

and only good as bullets fired

into a void, your words are clashing

with the meanings they are meant to follow...

And all that follows is a silence:

of heartless words dead empty piles,

not a translation but a hollow.


P.S. I did not like the song: Manos Eleftheriou deserves a better music


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