~ του Γιώργου Δόντσου ~
And stuffed men had their way;
God-fearing men,nonetheless.
A moon of death arose and instilled horror, so that
We protect ourselves and others,
But Pericles did die an unjust death;
He let his soul fly over the city’s long walls
And left us here to die in a city of no walls.
What did we accomplish?
Where does this terror lead the hearts of men?
And hollow men had their way;
A threshold of a threshold Into the dawn of nothingness,
Of fear inane,of mediocre postures,
Signifying bad postmodernism;
Lord,have mercy upon our souls,
For we have wandered in days of cough,days of fever,
Days of selling out our pride to killers.
And empty men had their way;
Boasting,pleading for what’s to come,
A chance to die from heart attack
On a plane to safety.
The rose garden is dry
With rosaries replaced;
The streets are empty and vulgar,
Non eloquent;
Mistah Kurtz-he dead.
