Πρέβεζα [Preveza] [English translation]

Death are the jackdaws

that hit themselves against the black walls and the roof tiles,

death are the women that fall in love

as if they were peeling onions.

Death are the dirty and insignificant streets,

with their bright great names,

the olive grove, behind the sea and moreover

the sun, death within the deaths.

Death is the policeman that folds over,

so he can weigh a scarce portion,

death are the hyacinths on the balcony,

and the teacher with the newspaper.

Base garrison platoon of Preveza.

On Sunday, we'll listen to the band playing.

I got my self a savings book,

first deposit, thirty drachmas.

While slowly walking on the dock,

"I exist" you say and then "you don't exist".

The ship's arriving with the flag raised.

Maybe mister governor is coming.

If at least, among people

one died out of disgust...

Silent, sad, with reserved manners,

we would all be having fun at the funeral.

• Artist:Vasilis Papakonstantinou
• Album:Φοβάμαι (1982)