Even if I get out of this jail
no one will be waiting for me
The streets will be empty and my state will be even more unfamiliar
All the coffeehouses will be closed
and my friends will be away abroad
The wind will be pushing me around even if I get out of this jail
And the sun will fall asleep in the ruins of Olynthos
My friends and my foes will be looking like things from a myth
Petrified will be standing
the rhetors and the crooks
Beggars, prostitutes and prophets will be standing petrified
I'll stand in front of the gate with the blankets under my arm
and while slowly moving my head I'll greet the guard
Without will, without a God,
like a king in an ancient drama
I'll spell out the word and the letter
In front of the gate I will stand