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HORSE EYED WOMEN
Her husband, who always followed her, stood at
the corner momentarily
he looked at the huge grey building with the half
open windows
and debated whether to enter or wait out there
next to the beggar who repeated, for years, the
monotonous
“a few coins, gentlemen, a few coins gentlemen”
his beard shone in the last sunrays
in the distant city, down there, in the horizon that
burnt in the night;
this beggar is a whole story, truly, this beggar once
found it impossible to beg, he felt embarrassed
and cried until
sleepless night after night he convinced himself
that people owe him a huge amount of money which
they took away from him or from his distant relatives
back in a day.
Therefore he let his beard grow, he dressed himself
in rags
he attached that cracked gong to his voice trying
to hide the horrible face of justice or
perhaps because he knew that deep inside people
are more humane and just. And now he stands, for
years, at this spot with an extended hand
collecting coin after coin all the primeval, unpaid
debts the universe owed to every human being.
Hellenic Canadian Literature 