Kostas Varnalis

Here where we have met, brothers,
Is neither flatland nor mountaintop,
nor the edge of the sea and the sky.
It is the bottom of the void of the prodigal.

We did not fall by ourselves into the absence of eternity,
darkness. We were thrown over the cliff by the customs officers
of lawlessness, the “first” of the people,
of every people, new or old.

For the Sun to reach here, a breath, a noise
is not allowed by the god of the wealthy
and to the Upper World from the Lower
the groans of undeath to rise

Their manipulation has rotted our flesh,
but their lying has done worse to our soul.
Flocks that have been sold, night and day
for their gain we die.

Meaningless, hideous, nihilists and ciphers,
they made the universe a prison.
There is no stone to step on
for the victim, as high as he may spit!

-How then shall we get out? -Not one by one!
All together and no one by himself!
When the extreme need for salvation arrives,
united, People, you will arise.

Varnalis, Free World

(translation: Eva Johanos)

-Πως εδώθε να βγούμε;-Όχι ένας ένας!
Όλοι μαζί και μοναχός κανένας!
Σα φτασ’ η εσχάτη ανάγκη να σωθείς,
ενωμένος Λαός να σηκωθείς.

In the underground tavern
In between smoke and swearing
(Upstairs the lantern was screaming)
All our company was drinking yesterday,
Yesterday, like every other night
Swallowing the bitter events that shape our lives.

Tightly stacked besides each other
Spitting on the earth’s face
Oh what a big torture
The torture of life is
No matter how hard our mind tries,
It remembers no happy day

Sun and oh blue sea
Depth of the fatherless sky
Of the dawn egg-yolked wrap
Carnation of the dusk
You shine then fade afar
Never entering our heart.

One’s father years ten now
Paralyzed, same as skeleton
The other’s wife life is short
slowing melting away
At Palamidi the son of Mazis
The daughter of Yiavis at Gkazi

It’s our cursed roots
It’s God’s hatred to us
It’s our own stupidity
But above all it’s our all the wine we’ve drunk
Whose fault it is?
No mouth has ever found the answer

Thus in the dark underground tavern
we drink always heads down
Like worms, every heel
that finds us steps on us
Cowardly, destined and without any willpower
We are, perhaps, expecting some miracle!