translated by Yannis Goumas

The dead man is moaning

as he sits cross-legged beside his body,

he takes off his tie

in his coffin,

as a young man he ruffles his black hair,

“have my friends come to my funeral?”, he asks

“now I should really go to theirs”

“but it’s impossible, don’t you understand?”

A sparkle brings him to his youth

     The flesh of the temporary and other poems (2019)