Garments Prose Poems
In a container, or in a chest of precious ebony, I will place and preserve the garments of my life.
      The clothes in blue. And then the clothes in red, the most beautiful of all. And then the clothes in yellow. And lastly the clothes in blue, again, but these much more faded than the first ones.
      I will preserve them with reverence and with great sorrow.
      When I will be wearing clothes in black, and I will be living in a house clothed in black, in a dark room, I will sometimes open the chest with elation, with longing, and with despair.
      I will gaze upon the clothes and reminisce of the great feast – which by then will be completely over.
      Completely over: furniture scattered haphazardly in the halls. Broken glass and china underfoot. All the candles burned out. All the wine drunk. All the guests departed. Some weary persons will be sitting all alone, like myself, in dark houses – others, wearier still, will have gone to bed.

Translated by Manuel Savidis

- Original Greek Poem

- Translation by Walter Kaiser