The Whole Truth about the Children of '78 The Whole Truth about the Children of '78


When I was spitting in your face
for your vulgar and immoral inspirations,
who could have told me that today you would warm
with fine words of love my cold nights?

When I was lying about you
and called you corruptor of my children,
who could reckon that today your name
would be craved on my desk?

When I put thorns on your hair
and stoned and killed you,
Who could conceive that one day
your death would hang above my bed?

Was I innocent when I judged you,
so to call you a criminal?
When I started writing this poem,
it was unluckily titled
"The only crime is hypocrisy"

P+Μ = Κ-Μ

Not even for the "province's minors"
Not even for the warmth of the handshake and smile
Not even for the fellow who kissed me
almost in the mouth
Not even for the sea that nourishes my veins
Not even for the forest that haunts my heart
Not even for the secret Society that quietly grows me up
when the night is coming...
I don't abide, I will endure a new destiny
Whatever I had to get from his love I 've got it
Blond happy girls die here
Mothers do not wash anymore their beautiful clothes
Everything we lived from my tears comes out
New days of obligation await me

Not even for the veterans of survival
Not even for the cross which they are still carrying
in their dreams
Not even for the sins that are trialed
under the sun
Not even for the traitor who has fallen on his knees
Not even for the wound that blesses his old age
Not even for the fever and the fear that unites us tonight
and redeems us...
I wouldn't forget her; no, I wouldn't come back
But how could I live away from him
Blond happy girls just get sick
For a few days they don't go to school
What we lived doesn't get out of me
Gifts of another class await me here


The last days of August
found me lying on thorns
Nobody reckoned that everything will change
and It would be such a black and bitter

The last days with him
found me with a hand on my neck
For many this would not be conceived as fear,
But the mind that has grown in Endless Summer
doesn't suffer it.
No, it doesn't suffer

the last days of August
the decreasing joy of students,
the decline, the responsibility, the hard truth
in the last cicadas,
in the "Blood in the Water",
in the dark voice of the correspondent,
in the afternoons that fade,
in the silent child,
in the secret life that we lived together


For what
wound could strike deeper than a false friend?

Sophocles, Antigone (651)

Behind his back /
in front of his chest
things happen,
or unmentionable
Morality here
never had a follower,
but if someone paid,
it was always me

Here occurs
something appalling,
that leaves indifferent
only a bad doctor
and the days that pass
are not for good
Now I have loved her
and this doesn't change
I know I was unfair
(I will not be judged leniently)
and even harder;
a bad friend
who behind his back
he played a game,
at first he blinded him
and then he stole him

And how to be covered
such a crime
between us?
No, it can't be held
such a scandal here
between us
And how will I endure
our life
not to be common anymore,
that it was my only joy?


Here they talk about worship,
here they talk about forms
that are glorified in the night
in passions and guilts

Here they talk about anxiety
imprisoned in souls
who came from other worlds
and from other eras

Here is not a simple province

Here the word "sin"
is not found in the dictionaries,
here the only destiny
is life with secrets

Here is not a simple province,
People here are gods
(here you are also crucified)
when they lie on the bed

They are called Sun or Konstantinos
Myrto or I'm Flying a Kite,
Christina, George or Mar/ita,
Dorian Gray or Chirst

But like their light blindes you
and buries you alive
when their truth ends,
everything is a lie here

and when you wake up, Prince Charming
is a cesspool at the end
and his divine name
sounds creepy

Here is not a simple province,
here life is a dream,
here you slept too
Here do not hope for a common happiness,
here the pain is pleasure
here you were hurt too
Here we are not seeking a new religion
People here are gods
here you were worshiped too

Here is not a simple province


When I'm with you,
time doesn't pass
When you're with me
the earth is minimal
When I'm with you,
there are no religions
When you're with me
there are no gods

Everything is mine
and everything is sacred
There is no history
there is no damage

When I'm with you,
there are no schools
When you're with me
I'm a wise one
When I'm with you,
there is no darkness (anywhere)
When you're with me
light is scattered everywhere

Everything is mine
and everything is sacred
There is no history,
there is no damage

When I'm with you,
a heart of water pops/explodes and babies come out
and before the circle closes,
the dream becomes a nightmare and the fire is extinguished
in your hair and clothes, joy becomes horror
and I go back to my "truth" again...

In my throat and my lips joy becomes bitterness
and I go back to my bed...


Spiders in my bed, women whispering in the morning:
"Doesn't he work, why does he wake up so late? Does his father have money?"
"His mother is not saying much..."
"My older one got a job in A bank and the young one is working as a seasonal in the fire brigade; I found/talked to a deputy/member.
"Mine is nominated in Athens, in the Ministry and the other one just opened here his own crammer and he is getting engaged in Easter, and the in-laws will come with the bride from Ioannina, a very good family. I praise Saint Spyridon that I had good children. They studied, finished and did their military service normally and immediately started work; they will raise children... With his head up my poor husband and I were tortured in order to raise them. We do not want anything else (for them); to have good children, to make money, no one to speak about them. And if God gives us (health), I wish to see great-grandchildren and to die beautifully, what else to know next?...»

Does anyone know where I go next?
My eyes are closed,
but I see more clearly
Then I will laught out loud
Then I will sleep until late
and I will never wake up...


Don't separate us now
that we learned to live together
we who loved you so much
and painted our lips with blood
without being afraid

Spelling your name,
drawing your form,
we lived together everything and all on earth,
but you forgot us

Do not leave us to renege
promises of eternal love
Do not leave us to be lost
in impersonal groups with ghosts
that laugh before the end

Spelling your name,
drawing your form,
you were everything and all on earth for us,
you who betrayed us

Do not leave us now
that we make a new beginning
we who tried so much
to stay children until the end,
but now something changed
and we don't remember your name,
we loathe your form,
we doubt for your love
and you want our tear

Make us suspicious again
Make the saliva we exchange bittersweet again
Burn the clothes of death
that you prepared for what we lived

We didn't ask you for cigarettes or fire
neither to come in our bed with thorns in the hair
We didn't ask you Truth nor Love nor Money,
simply a lot was lost...


There where he slept
there where he was baked in a beautiful fever
I went again without sensitivity,
I who knew only for him to cry,
I who held for him the most beautiful
and filled with hope
his bed

There where he dreamed,
there where he stripped off the excess
I tremble now to approach so indifferently,
I who knew only for her to cry,
I who knew what would be fatal
and filled with memories
her head

There where they were loved,
there the beds were always made
like I wanted them
There where they were loved,
there the sheets had always two sides
(only I knew)
There where they were eventually forgotten
- on one side flowers, little animals, children -
and on the other nothing

How to say it next?
How to leave souvenirs?


Easter in the mental
You say to me "Corfu is changing.
Your sister married you,
But your nephew doesn't look like you"

And if you find funny
a handshake with the handrail,
it's Spring that blooms in the head
the joy that decries me is not fake

And if I walk with my hands in the back
and go to sleep before lying in bed
here goes the litany of one,
here the epitaph is not folklore,
all the lies here stay outside,
here Christ is not resurrected

Easter in the mental hospital
You say to me "Your home empties.
Your father "turned it"
and your mother... is getting old"

And if you ask me what guilt
will be for me this year;
I fell in love with the girlfriend of my friend
and unfortunately she fell in love with me too...

And if my pleasure depends on something
that I don't care if it's true or illusory,
and if for some I'm crazy with a seal
until now I was much more fortunate,
but the pain of my soul is known,
because I live it without interruption since childhood


How many promises we failed to keep in the process?
How many words of love we forgot in yesterday?
Snow on our balconies and snow on the grass
Time for soccer, and sleep will sometime take
us too

You said one thousand lies and only one truth
You said "Her love was not worth for us"
I kissed her everywhere like the Christian kisses the relic
But my faith never reached such great heights

I think about the end and I'm scared and I weep
No one could make it harder
than me

So many empty plates and we are still hungry
So many years have passed and we are still not lost
Snow in our beds and snow on the pages
And even if the playing fields have frozen, the tiers are still burning

My friend, I do not know if "I will always be there for you,
even if 1,000,000 winters go by "
My baby, do not believe that "I will always be there for you,
even if all the sky's snow bury us"


«At the end crying, never happiness»
We learned the lesson
And the purpose for everything that happens
is now well known to us
From God to man
who will be now between?
What to say that will be true...
(I think) I loved you
The summer passed -
and we both were hurt
In November I won't be
where we fell in love
And everything will be the same there
your jacket in the rain
And everything will be the same here
pills and football

And the winter will come again
"One the other" will forget
The summer will come again,
but the sun there will never come out
We will enter the studio
(Alexander, when will we get out??...)
I see you still there,
I forecast that you will live there
And when our album comes out
(by E.M.I. or Pericles),
You will receive a package
(ah, if the end would be a lie)
«Baby, I did Aura-Soma
Baby, I'm still thinking of you»


Everything was determined
The horrific delays
and the tears on the phone
The blood in the hands of my little one,
to whom I may never find the courage to tell
that everything was determined
(and that I loved her since I was a baby)
The crying in the morning in the poolroom
The letters that were burned on the mountain
The one who forever defeated
his namesake
The one whom no one ever dared to be compared with
That I will adore him, but I will be ashamed
to tell to the bad ones that he is my friend

Everything was prescribed
and blessed the genes of laziness
that our mothers appended to us
And beauty and art and hope
stronger than the dollars in the eyes
and than the love that doesn't know betrayal,
but revenges when aching

Everything was well ordered
Τhe judge of young poets to laugh
when I tell her that I betrayed her in my sleep
and then I was hung to the delight of students
To cry when she learns I am hungry
and that sordid sentinels
are thirsty for my blood,
in the summer, with bows
and contracts
and promises for bright years
and perseverance
inside catacombs of new countries
without compassion

Everything was determined
"Death" in '97
A new life in his eyes later
Everything was carefully designed
- and I shiver when I think about it -
to be done as we eventually wanted them to be
But before our hair fall
let's do something together again


There are moments that I feel
the end of the world coming close
and I clench my heart for assesments,
for lists with everything that marked me so far
and everything I loved
evaluatively, like lists of the albums of the year

There are moments that I feel unlucky
to carry the weight of the end of all
and I must grieve for centuries that die
and everything that are lost inside them
with me

There are moments that we are choked by rage
we all wake up with a weight
We are the children of the greedy generation
and our hopes are like the paper apple
in the hands of people who killed the Art,
in the hands of people who destroyed our future

There are moments that I go crazy, grandma
There are moments that I tremble for this world when you won't be here