Yórgos Markópoulos
From: Suburban Blues (1976)
Sunday Afternoons
apartment block doors
seem like lordly mausoleums long since abandoned.
And if they happen to have an ivy growing by their entrance
or some other climbing plant
well then that completes the picture.
This is where our girls slept, anonymous, unknown.
They couldn't bear to choose,
not even when the last opportunity had come:
to remain sentimental.
You switch on the light. You put it out.
I want to love you like nothing else.
You switch on the light. You put it out.
An old, god-fearing woman feeds the cats on the back stairs.
You play unsuspecting.
Hair long, legs long and bare.
The wind catches hold of your dress.
Translated by John C. Davies
Page(s) 105-106
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