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Ston kero tou allokotou fovou [=In Times Of Weird Fear]


Wishes and curses pave new roads
and the makings of ants trap our Gods.
Dreams dry up in the kingdom of youth
and man’ s a scared host shut in his booth.
He lets fear step over time’s dying body
– if you bear this, go bargain your share in the story.
You’ve got nothing to loose! In times like these,
we all rehearse evil round dead hills.
Fly like a wild bird, keep an open -wide bill,
sing the silence like a grave that stands still.
In mid-winter ask for a warm wind from south;
turn your smallest of fears to a secret hide-out.
If you’re here, I’m here too, and the rest is a blur.
If you go, I go, too and I’m back where you were.
Turn round and look: tomorrow shows you ’re yesterday
and for all you say, you ’re just the fear you dismay.

He’ s a weird, quiet traveller,
Firstborn son, patient and charming character.
He’s a zealot; so anything you want to wit,
you can merely dream of it.

You are running naked in time, but you’re in absolute zero,
you ’re raving over the past like a miniature hero.
Once, you grew like a fire round your fortune and fate;
now look over the crater and see lava abate.
Someone works you on anvil with hammer and stone;
you ’re a barbed wire now in a forbidden zone
or a sign at the eternal passage left there to steer
and show the way to the times of weird fear.

At the eternal passage, near here…
I smelled the smell of weird fear.
How? How can I describe him?
The more I write the less they seem.
My life’s anathema is all I can bear;
and you, a newborn delusion veiling the world.
How? How can I face you?
Don’t know what to do.

Agony’ s climbed at the mast of the world
helpless and blind gives out word after word.
All natural elements kept in harmonical borders
suddenly dash on the sinners’ "holy orders".
Fear’s eye sees a thousand years ahead
his hand catches hold of moments unsaid.
Crossing a sea of faces, blood and salt,
he overturns all past events and the very first act.
The greatest of men could have got ahead,
but, you’re seeking help from small gods instead.
You keep several machines to wash out your dirt
and your valuable word is left back desert.
Your secret hope suicides in front of your eyes,
if you were aiming at hell, ’better hasten your tries.
Stay a while at the eternal passage frontier;
then, we might meet in the times of weird fear.

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