The last poem of Kostas Varnalis (14 February 1884 – 16 December 1974).
A limited edition tribute poster to the Greek poet Kostas Varnalis (14 February 1884 – 16 December 1974), created for the commemoration of the 40 year anniversary of his passing.
Ta Mounakia (The Little Cunts) was his last poem. It was written in December 1974, a few days before his death.
He was a teacher, a journalist, a member of the greek resistance during the WWII and a dedicated Marxist. He was awarded the Lenin Peace Prize in 1959, but was sent in exile for his beliefs, later, during the time of dictatorship in Greece. He died in Athens on 16 December 1974, shortly after the end of the dictatorship.
Silkscreen printed by Tind & Erato
Projects photo by Sergio Kotsovoulos
The original poem in Greek:
Μουνάκια φλογισμένα σαν τα ρόδαΣαν του νεοφούρνιστου ψωμιού τη θραψερή ζεστοβολιά.
Μες τα τρεμόπαχα μεριά σας
που ονειρεύεστε νυχτιές οργιακές
Παρθενικά μουνάκια!
αργοσαλεύουν τα χειλάκια
τα χνουδωτά!
Σαν γαρούφαλλων ανεμόσειστα φυλλάκια
Σαν στοματάκια διψασμένα
από ποια δίψα;
Και κάπου κάπου αργοκυλά
στων διακαμένων σας χειλιών την άκρη
της βαρβατίλας καβλομύριστο ένα δάκρυ!
Μες τα τρεμόπαχα μεριά σας
που ονειρεύεστε νυχτιές οργιακές
Παρθενικά μουνάκια!
αργοσαλεύουν τα χειλάκια
τα χνουδωτά!
Σαν γαρούφαλλων ανεμόσειστα φυλλάκια
Σαν στοματάκια διψασμένα
από ποια δίψα;
Και κάπου κάπου αργοκυλά
στων διακαμένων σας χειλιών την άκρη
της βαρβατίλας καβλομύριστο ένα δάκρυ!
The translated poem (not safe for minors):
Little cunts blazing like roses.
Like the heat of freshly baked bread.
In your quivering sides,
that you dream of orgy nights.
Virgin little cunts!
Slowly shifting fuzzy lips!
Carnation leafs moving by the breaze.
Like little thirsty mouths.
By which thirst?
And every now and then, slowly dripping,
a tear smelling of lust!
Like the heat of freshly baked bread.
In your quivering sides,
that you dream of orgy nights.
Virgin little cunts!
Slowly shifting fuzzy lips!
Carnation leafs moving by the breaze.
Like little thirsty mouths.
By which thirst?
And every now and then, slowly dripping,
a tear smelling of lust!