THEN I understood it was late and there was no place
left for me anymore “but why do they torture me?”
I asked “since we all live in a stranger’s body” and
when night came I went for a confession although
even the priest couldn’t explain it; I therefore tried
to search better and raising the lamp I saw in horror
that there wasn’t any house and that I was always
outside, “help” I yelled but so much time had passed;
then night came so the blind man could walk by
as if he was turning little pages with his cane a bit further
away sometimes he sang in a low tone voice, like his mom
or as if he wanted to cover the underworld and perhaps
that song was leading him and his dog.
Hellenic Canadian Literature 