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Tasos Leivaditis' Triptych Published online by Cambridge University Press: 15 September 2022
Freezing cold
the wind blows through the deserted city streets
swirling the dust
sweeping along cigarette butts, clouds, papers
some solitary pedestrians hurry through the streets
the wind blows
it blows into the chimneys, in the shelters under the bridges
it blows through the scraggy legs of the prisoners as they drift around the courtyard
it blows onto the bleeding bellies of women who give birth outside the closed hospital doors
it blows in the slums, in the barracks, in the taverns
it blows beneath the old palace
Requiem for the fallen
Bleachers
ministers’ top hats
monocles
gloves
expensive furs
soldiers in file present arms
crowds crammed
behind glistening bayonets
Faces square and wrinkled
faces blue with cold, smudged with smog
thick strong jaws, rotted teeth
eyes beneath crumpled caps
red and sullen
Give rest, O God, unto your servants
hallelujah
the wind blows
An old man half-asleep
a plasterer with overalls covered in lime powder
there's no way out
the Slavs threaten us
the war
quiet! quiet! the minister is speaking
the war
hallelujah
the wind blows through the crutches of the crippled who bang on the city doors
it blows through the guitars of the blind who play on street corners
it blows between the bones of the dead
A woman clutches her child in fear
the child is in distress and begins screaming
shut up! the minister is speaking
a bakery worker spits
bastards!
hallelujah
and his spittle, congealed from the flour, expands like leavened dough
to make tomorrow's bountiful bread
take ye, and eat
the wind blows
Workers from the sewers, from the cement factories, from the gasworks
garbage collectors, builders, workers from the abattoirs
women who sell greens at the market
girls who warm their hands under their armpits
huge red hands worn from washing
Our nation is threatened!
For God and country!
We must cut it short, Your Excellency
they’re expecting us for tea
where pain shall be no more, nor sorrow
a beggar scratches his crotch
The unknown soldier is cold beneath the fine sleet
an old-timer grinds a chestnut with his toothless gums
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