The Last Breath of a Guerrilla Fighter
Before dawn on Holy Wednesday,
fighting in the battle of Lia,
they had spoken to him of freedom.
His body collapsed upon the earth,
yet he no longer felt pain.
His soul separated from the body,
invisible, gazing from above.
While stray bullets flew,
they could no longer touch his soul.
It was one of those futile days,
like a little boat without oars.
He saw countless children
trembling like wounded birds;
their blood had overflowed —
it was too late for anyone to help.
He saw his brother running
and took it upon himself to guard him,
like a halo from above,
pushing danger far away.
At the river of Palamas
thirty young men were chosen.
They made a bridge of rope,
slipping like snails.
Before reaching the other side,
they were all killed.
Thodoris seemed to have wings —
the only one who survived.
“Help us, Christ and Panagia,”
he crossed himself
when he saw bodies dragged
through the blood-stained Palamas.
“Surrender, brothers!”
voices cried from afar.
They howled like wild beasts,
fighting for freedom.
They fought body against body
in the deep darkness,
believing they were crossing
the abyss of Hades.
Thodoris shouted,
“Where are you, my brother Panagiotis?”
He fixed the bayonet to his rifle,
yet feared he might kill him.
The battle ended at dawn.
Crows circled overhead.
Sleep overcame Thodoris
inside a cave among the rocks.
As he slept, he dreamed
he met Panagiotis again:
“Do not search for me and suffer.
You will never recognize my body.
Greet mother and father for me —
my soul will not be far away.
I will watch over you from above
until we meet again.”
Thodoris awoke in terror.
Vultures, crows, and wild beasts
were tearing apart
the lifeless bodies.
“Water… water… just a little water…”
a timid voice was heard.
Before I could run to find him,
his final breath was gone.
I ran down the slope
to the unknown village of Lia.
Terrible was the emptiness;
I saw only a blind old woman.
“Who is it that comes near me?”
she asked, stretching out her hands.
“Tell me — have you seen Antigoni,
my only daughter?
The guerrillas took her one night,
a cursed night.
They must have taken her far away,
my poor child.”
“They spoke of freedom —
it is our national duty,
to fight like wild beasts
without question or fear.”
Returning to the village,
the bell tolled mournfully.
“Ah! we have lost our brother —
how will we bear it, mother?”
He saw them leaving the church,
chanting the lament of the Epitaphios.
He followed quietly behind;
no one recognized him there.
Only his mother saw Thodoris —
only she knew him —
and she let out a silent cry.
“Where is Panagiotis, my child?
When will he return?”
“Mother… I did not find his body.
Only his soul spoke to me.”
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