Michalis Katsaros, 4 and a half poems in translation


from the collection “against sadducees” as a tribute to a poet in revolt.


I will wait for you until the terrifying midnight
indifferent –
I have nothing else to declare anymore.
The malicious wardens are lurking for
my end
amongst torn shirts and
I will wait for your night indifferent
smiling with coldness for the glorious days.
Behind the paper garden of yours
behind the paper face of yours
I will surprise the crowds
the wind my own
vain noises and formal drumrolls
vain speeches.

Don’t forget.
Bring water with you.
Our future has plenty of drought.


I will leave all of you raging
or calmly rest your head by the
window –
I will leave you hanging by the stairs
and suddenly petrifying there
oblivious to your actions-
I will leave you run.
I amongst  trees and tombs
with my flag as a rag
with the wind or without it
among the crowd
I will wander alone –
a flaming prince – wizard.

Time approaches. The temples will be demolished.
There is no flame in your heart.

to all your dreams:


When I listen to them talking about the weather
when I listen to them talking about war
when I listen that today the Aegen sea is becoming poetry
flooding the parlors
when I listen that they suspect my ideas
tidying them up in a cabinet
when I listen to you talking
I always remain silent.

When I sometimes listen with my certain ears
strange sounds and distant murmurs
when I listen to trumpets and marches
endless speeches hymns and clatters
when I listen to them speaking about freedom
about gospel laws and a life in order
when I listen to them laughing
when I listen to them again talking
I always remain silent.

But once the cold silence surrounds the earth
once the inconspicuous chatters dry out
and everyone expects certainly the voice
I will open my mouth
the gardens will be filled with waterfalls
in the same dirty yards will the arsenals
the young raging will follow with lyrics without
with no surrender to the horrifying power.

Again I give you vision.


to the one who builds a little house
and says: I’m good here.
Resist to the one who returns home again
and says: Thank God.
to the persian carpet of the apartments
to the short person of the office
to the company import-export
to public education
to tax
even to me that gives you the narration.

to the one who salutes from the platforms
the parades for endless hours
to the sterile woman who distributes
paper of holy incense and myrrh
even to me that gives you the narration.

Resist again to all those who are called
to the head of Court of Appeal resist
to the music of drums and the parades
to all those superior conferences that chatter
with participants and consultants drinking coffee
to all those who write speeches for the era
next to the winter’s heater
to obsequity to wishes to that many bows
from bureaucrats and cowards for the wise
leader of theirs.

Resist to the department of foreign affairs
and passports
to the terrifying flags of states and
to the factories of warfare
to those who call lyricism nice words
to the marches
to the sweetish songs with mournings
to the audience
to the wind
to all those indifferent and wise
to the others who pretend to be your friends
even to me, to me that gives you the narration
Then we may be certain to attain


My will before it was read
–while it was read–
was a warm horse of integrity.
Before it was read
not the heirs who awaited
but the usurpers transgressed the fields.

My will for you and ye
for years it was thrown in the cabinets of time
from bureaucrats sly notaries.

They changed important phases
hours stooped over it with horror
they vanished the places with rivers
the new sound in the forests
the wind they killed it –
now I understand what I thus lost
who is the one that strangles.

And well you
you stand so silent with all those resignations
from voice
from food
from horse
from home
you stand disgustingly silent like deceased:

Disabled Freedom they promise you again.


About Απολύτως Διαλλακτικός

Logical stories of everyday madness
This entry was posted in Books, English, Ποιήματα. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Michalis Katsaros, 4 and a half poems in translation

  1. Επαναστατικός ο λόγος του, ωραία μεταφρασμένος..Καλημέρα Διαλλακτικέ μου και καλό μήνα!

    Liked by 1 person


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