Volume of colour I

Ritsos Yannis poetry
The Uncompromising 

Streets, avenues, signs, doors,
dust, smoke, a tree, self-interest. It was I
who threw the ring into the plate. Every night the beer pubs
open and close with calculated noise. The windows
are opaque with golden letters. The waiters have gone
to the toilets for a smoke. The other man is tired,
gazes at the floor or the wall, avoids seeing,
avoids showing, avoids naming. Every word
is a betrayal. On the billboard table
the flabby woman is lying naked, hinding
her eaten face in her scant hair
as large flies with cut wings walk on her breasts.

(Translated by Kimon Friar)

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...η μελέτη του σώματος δίνει την αίσθηση ανείπωτης περιπλοκής...
Φρ. Νιτσε