from In Famen 69 C.
Hunger is worst of all. Hunger is pain—
the worst of miseries, the worst of deaths.
A knife kills quickly; famine kills you slow—
a long & endless martyrdom that drains
a body’s heat & shrivels up its breath,
till muscle, flesh & even color go.
Your bones stick to your body. Tawdry skin
begins to chafe like leather. Black & dry,
like chestnuts in their sockets, eyes lie still
& useless in their caverns. As it spins,
your stomach hollows, cramps against your spine.
Your knees won’t hold you up. Your words go shrill.
What kind of Hell awaits the well-heeled man
who walks in silence past an upraised hand?
Translated from the Greek by James Sutton