Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Theodore Stephanides
This is Their Life
In compact phalanxes they rush,
As once had rushed the swine,
Deep down into the bowels of earth
Upon a steep incline.
And then they sit in rows or stand
With weary vacant eyes
That look as if they'd never seen,
Nor hoped to see the skies.
They journey thus far in the depths,
East, west, or north, or south;
But this is strange: none seem to hold
An obol in the mouth.
(from "The Golden face", 1965)
This is Their Life
In compact phalanxes they rush,
As once had rushed the swine,
Deep down into the bowels of earth
Upon a steep incline.
And then they sit in rows or stand
With weary vacant eyes
That look as if they'd never seen,
Nor hoped to see the skies.
They journey thus far in the depths,
East, west, or north, or south;
But this is strange: none seem to hold
An obol in the mouth.
(from "The Golden face", 1965)