Kakia Mendri

He first saw her all dressed in red
He, an artist, with a grizzled head
she a little girl with lively energy
gathering wild poppies in some field

The passersby watched her, entranced
and passed with slowed steps
but he, in the late afternoon, with a humble demeanor
said to the living flower:

Gay wild poppy
the passersby passing by
love you but stay silent
and none of them will tell you

Envied wild poppy
Wild poppy of destiny
The passerby who awaits you
searches for no other.

She did not listen to him, the fresh wild poppy
she grew older and believed many things
deceptive words of one man, and afterwards from another even crazier
she came tumbling down low.

Cast down in the storm of the theater
where she danced one evening on the stage
it was as if she heard a hoarse voice
speaking to her from the darkened auditorium:

Sullen wild poppy,
the passersby who passed by
loved you but left you
cast into shame.

Sad wild poppy,
withered wild poppy,
The passerby who awaits you
searches for no other.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Παπαρούνα σκυθρωπή,
παπαρούνα μαραμένη
ο διαβάτης που προσμένει
άλλην δε ζητά να βρει