I’ll tear up the paper and go back in history.
When I still hadn’t met you, in Columbus’ time.
For your sake I combed my hair, did the washing,
dried hankies and watered the hyacinth.
On the door hangs the cloth of expiation.
It’ll become dusty with time, and the junk dealer will charge for it as much as for a quick cup of coffee.
Maria  Panoutsou

FROM GREEK LANGUAGED  TRANSALTED BY  Yannis Goumas