Dear reader,
I offer here a humble translation of the closing track of Lena Platonos’ iconic album ‘Galop‘. I do this to honour the feat of storytelling that many of the pieces on the album represent.
Now,
just as a little air lifted,
everyone expected these days to be cool.
At least that’s what they all said.
Even the lady at the street pavilion
made mistakes in her transactions
from the excessive heat.
And on the radio
they prepare the winter
with humour and stability,
seriousness,
galloping through
and choosing different answers.
You close your eyes.
You arrange a date.
You close your eyes
and dream of different cities.
Sparsely populated cities in the night
lacking unnecessary sounds
whose light emanates from within the people,
from the walls of the houses.
A door opens.
Someone lifts their hand
and their greeting traces the shape of a star,
mmmm,
or rather a moon.
You reciprocate.
Slowly many gather,
then even more.
They all reciprocate
and their greeting traces the shape of a moon
and as they approach one another
they are united by that same gallop
of the first rain;
by the colour of the moon in their own touch.
Yes, and further down there is a couple
that have only a moon
that they cut in two,
biting the half
and again the half,
until crumbs are left behind.
Until nothingness remains.
But they share even that nothingness
as it appears that nothing doesn’t exist.
Maybe that’s why the light emanates from them so.
Notes From Afar 