Giorgos Koutouvelas, Greece

Giorgos Koutouvelas, Greece

The Poems

A Fairytale

The wizard plays the pipe overnight
Makes the dog hop up on the table

He casts a spell and turns it to a dancing snake
At dawn The piper falls asleep,
leaving the spell unbroken
So, the snake crawls
under the shadow of a forbidden tree

Into the old testaments yard
With an apple instead of a head
And a bite
Intead of its mouth.

*

Ένα παραμύθι

Τη νύχτα ο μάγος παίζει τον αυλό
κάνει το σκυλί να ανέβει στο τραπέζι

ψέλνοντας ξόρκια το μεταμορφώνει σε φίδι
και εκείνο αρχίζει να λικνίζεται

Το ξημέρωμα ο αυλητής αποκοιμιέται
ξεχνώντας να λύσει τα μάγια
και το φίδι, έρποντας,
βρίσκει καταφύγιο
κάτω από τη σκιά ενός απαγορευμένου
δέντρου

στην αυλή της παλαιάς διαθήκης·
με ένα μήλο για κεφάλι
και για στόμα μια δαγκωματιά.

* * *

Extract of Western civilization

In a just world for every church of St. George, a marble tomb would be built in memory of
the dragon. Anyone who has emerged into this world through darkness understands me.
Beyond that, we choose what we can compromise on, what we can’t, and then we dress
accordingly. There is no consolation, only waiting for coffees, newspapers, cigarettes and
orgasms.

In the packed squares, one can find a ridiculous evil print of Rage circling his sad flesh from
table to table – all the groups, guarding from an empty chair lest he appear. This is how our
actions have been made more useless than their theoretical background. On the other hand,
the most detested of the detestable, among us, do not speak. They only pose with a smile,
sometimes with their foot on the carcass of a wild animal, that children even themselves,
dreamed of touching its pulses.

We don’t know how to do much, such as changing a damaged wheel in the car or frying
potatoes. But what we know – and we know this well – is to say the time.

In the next tone the hour will be boredom past a quarter. Unless the watch is connected to
an explosive device.