1. Adagio:

Someone knocked over crystal glasses in the next room,

And the sounds, sharp and clear, caught the loneliness of his loneliness.

One trapped dinner crumbs in a striped tablecloth

which he always hated, and he roared at the laundry in the sink.

A thick blanket wrapped the flabby body of a student,

Who lived inside another and had never met.

Ένα βιβλίο έκλεισε πρόωρα σαν καπάκι από μπουκάλι υπνωτικών

and the heroes of the story played a secret overtime.

And the question time sweat closed another circle,

and counted the districts, knowing he was getting older.

A crooked soda can was kicked by a passerby,

and heard a familiar whistle that all the garbage on that street

had agreed to call it "the Sunday adagio

2. Wet nights

Wet Sunday nights, empty of sounds, mourn the Saturday night,

and expectations are silenced to absolute zero.

The wet Sunday evenings with stony sounds of drops pushing the time

and belts of brightness are picked up in the scattering.

The wet Sunday evenings sing the praises of care in their excess nakedness

and the suffering falls, true to the law of gravity.

The wet Sunday evenings saturate the sworn futility with nothing

and Nobody blinds the one-eyed demand.

Wet Sunday nights, like a neutral announcement of a scientific diagnosis,

and arrogance, clinically dead.