Our Life Back…

October 5, 2011 § 1 Comment

Our life back… a poem by Peter Arguriou, translated from Greek to english by: Dimitra Papageorgiou

In Egypt, they cried: We want our life back.

In Syria, they cried: We want our life back.

In Athens, they cried: We want our life back.

In London, they cried: We want our life back.

In New York, out of the way of the walls, Wall Street, the walls of shame, they cried: your money or our life.

In Argentina they took their life back In Iceland, the land of ice, they broke the ice and the walls: They took their life back.

In Equator, in Ecuador, equality reverted Our life back.

By a slight breeze, sea rages. The wave breaks the breakwater It wants its life back

By a short poem, billows the poor soul: She wants her life back

You gave us cars for our body to diminish.

Mobile phones to be for the first time so close and yet even further.

Excessive food to die full of obese starvation.

You tipped us in order to steal everything

The buzz.

The clang.

The crawl.

The suspended step to freedom: We want our life back

The small talk,

the whisper,

the united and wholehearted cry: We want our life back

Why do you pretend not to hear the thunder? Are those who live in high places, underneath a different celestial shelter?

Why do you cross your eyes, when your gaze is fixed upon the deserted places of your intrigue? Hollow is your soul and hollow is your seed. Your ambitious plans: imaginary pregnancies. But the wind will blow. Gently at first. Then, like a caress ready to withdraw, when reaching that which taunts the tenderness. Like a breeze that wants to teach a fluff that shivers for the first time, how it feels to fly in clear winds.

Hey blacksmith, for whom do you forge your crazy weapons?

Hey horseman, in whose carriage did you harness the animals?

Hello fisherman• on whose table will you lay your haul?

Hey miller, for whom do you adulterate the bread? Hey farmer, the place is filled with bitter harvest.

Hey laborer, why do you punch in your card for those who robbed your job?

Now, with empty gazes, we watch what was hidden of old. Under the lack of light, strangely the shadows grow. With small fearful steps, within this unbearable slavery, we‘ll ravage the fraudulent sheepskin. Hey bosses you fucked it up again.

The things to come, the things intended, the misconceived, you put them all together, our virtues you turned into dirty innuendos.

Hey you dummies with neckties. You who demolish altars to look like gods. You, dummies with neckties, who laugh at every adversity. Take a look again. For all the things you have stolen with relentless pettiness for the praise of every baseness, take a look again… You are not, you never were, and never will be:



If I am the wild ass that has to carry a ton of your shit you should feel honored when I bray. Your ears should tremble when you hear aloud:

I want my life back.

October 2011


Where Am I?

You are currently viewing the archives for October, 2011 at hellasashell.