Sotirios Pastakas- Greece

Sotirios Pastakas- Greece

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FOOD LINE

Translated by Jack Hirschman and Aggelos Sakis

It smells like Sunday roast

in my balcony. I stretch

my hands and find

the stove turned off,

the plates cold. I forgot again

to cook. I feel full

just with the aroma, even though

nobody’s asked me to share

the chicken and potatoes

split in three. It wasn’t by chance, I figure,

that I’d served in a battalion of undesirables.

Between death

and life

a broccoli salad

remains for me.

With barley-broth

and garlic

the pyramids were built.

Man needs

nothing more

in order to leave

monuments behind.

From verb to existence

or from existence to verb?

Whatever the answer may be

to the Morelli dilemma,

there’s only one truth:

slowly, slowly and methodically

I’ll be sinking.

Sotirios Pastakas, Greece

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