dimitris varos
poetry | o stranger
o stranger

"O stranger"
(Ω ξειν...)
O stranger   Dying dead

Under a heaven full of gods
Under masters of every kind
or along with the smell of cowpat
in villages

Random all of us…
We measure the blasts of our eyes
The loud sounds of our throats
The signs of teen sperm on the walls
With a perpetual expression of wonder
on our faces

O stranger, go and tell…
that this country that laughs
dressed in light blue, green and white
it’s more reliable
during the sunsets of August
beneath the crimson mantle of sky
that dripping blood and tears


Out of coast of Santorini
in broad daylight
I saw the idol of me
as a stone ship
with a fishing net
instead of sail

Bent over the horizontal wood
with a quill in my hand
the existence of me
dares on papers:

In the land of the Parthenon
I’m dying dead.

Thessaloniki, Summer 1969   Thessaloniki, Summer 1969

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