The world is late, comrade
and you took your rifle,
open the old road,
tear the plastic,
but so comfortable,
veil separating the comfortable
from those proscribed.
And now the sunny path,
the sunny slaughterhouse,
the sweet hypocrisy of cheap games
without the hiding places of the half-darkness,
in hearts where the tide resounds;
you became an eternal gift, the guide.
We are late, comrade,
you are a rock that shall guard the passage,
but below torrents of despair,
here in the seas and there in the deserts of Almyra.
We will come to the eagle peaks
that your faith has set up a festive table,
with our rifles and our pieces,
with plenty on your guitar to calm down,
to rise up in a circle
embracing the whole Earth,
in the dance of freedom
until the big dawn.
Dimitris
*”Willem Van Spronsen, forever at the forefront of crossing borders”, message of the comrade for the anniversary of 2022 – https://athens.indymedia.org/post/1619845/