. . .
Trains whistle
a loud roar from the four corners of the world
thousands of hands grab and chime the bells
men without limbs grab with their teeth and
pull the ropes
women grab their babies and raise them up
like banners
wind blows their hair
the wind unfolds their hair like a flag
we want to saw
we want to weave
we want to give birth
peace
peace
The wind rips the clouds open
and suddenly a waterfall of rain falls
on this ravaged multitude of people
we knead the dough though we don’t
have bread
we extract coal from the mine though
we are always cold
we are the destitute
who come to conquer the world
peace
peace
we the proletariat
The future, like a lightning bolt, plough
the capitals;
cities widen when pushed by the elbows
of the crowd
passing shadows fall roughly onto the buildings
like spades
this roar is the pulse of the highest fever
you could say the same future walks today
Nostrils of blind men from behind their darkness
smell this sun that starts rising
we who tumble down from scaffolds
we are buried in the stoas of mines
we who fall screaming amid the melted steel
peace
peace
the wind that sweeps us tonight
comes from our breaths and our bellows
Thousands of people march on
solemn
rough
dirty
not believing in God
carrying their strength like a new enormous God
we who curse all the sanctuaries of the world
we who sing in all the languages of the world
peace
peace
People march on from all corners of the world
tumbling borders with their thick soles
designing with their callused hands
the wide gestures of the new world destiny
upon the red horizon
and the wind follows them
the great wind follows them
the great wind follows them roaring
peace
peace
P e a c e.
Copyright © 2022, Manolis Aligizakis (translator), Tasos Livaditis, Poems — Volume II, Libros Libertad
from "It Blows Over the Crossroads of the World"
the Greek written by Tasos Livaditis
