An... - Dimitra Galani

She hangs about her garden

She’s chatting with the flies

Avidly reads the classics

She never ever sighs

A cigarette is always

Extension of her time

Gives her a new lease of life

To find the perfect rhyme

She now enters the bedroom

Unmakes the bed, lies down

Studies Sylvia Sexton

And tightens her night gown

There is a curse around her

She explains to her gas fire

That feminist production

Was not to take her higher

Mi mou milas gia agapi (do not talk to me about love)

(She hangs about her garden)

Mi mou milas (don not talk to me)

Petheni to oniro mas (our dream is dying)

(She never ever sighs)

Mi mou milas

Mi mou milas gia agapi

(San klene ta poulia) (as birds are crying)

Mi mou milas gia agapi

(Stin ermi akrogialia) (at the lonely coast)

Petheni to oniro mas

(Stin adia akrogialia) (at the empty coast)

Mi mou milas gia agapi

(San klene ta poulia)

Mi mou milas gia agapi

Stin ermi akrogialia)

The gas stove in the kitchen

Warms up her lettered past

Of fantasies

Of lovers

That rose and baked fast

Mi mou milas gia agapi

(Mi mou milas)