The Collector

by Stamatis Grigoropoulos

A translation of the haunting "ΣΥΛΛΕΚΤΗΣ" by Susan S. Keiser

I walk the streets

in the mornings,

bag over my shoulder,

searching for faces,

for the looks on the faces

of the people who pass.

They pass me by

as I walk the streets;

bag over my shoulder.

They are roadmaps

of where they have been

of where they will go,

as I search their faces

for the things I wish to see.

In the evenings,

I walk the museum halls,

I search for faces,

for the looks on the faces

of the statues.

They do not pass me by,

the ancient ones.

The looks on their faces,

fixed for all time.

They do not pass me by

as I walk the halls,

bag over my shoulder.

They are still, long-past,

and their eyes do not follow,

but I talk to them, the statues,

and I take from them,

from their faces,

this carved roadmap

of where we have been,

of where we will go.