Yánnis Kondós
From: The Nothing Athlete (1997)
Tax Collector
I lead a quiet life.
I watch my diet.
I take my pills, go to bed early.
Colourless I move between work
and home. Just the usual things
and the days go by.
But when I do my monthly accounts
I become a stickler, a skinflint:
with words, with lighting.
I chase shadows, set people up,
Stretch them to the limit of their endurance,
and also of my own. I do everything
to music. The most incongruous.
I bring storms to clear skies.
No one owes me a thing.
But I, obedient to some unknown
chief-accountant, hand out by the hour
billing statements clearly written
and always with a debit. It seems I'm still
in debt somewhere, and with a steady hand
I record the fluctuations
of my soul.
Translated by Jane Assimakopoulos
Page(s) 27-28
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