The Donkey of Kyriakos
Kyriakos had a donkey,
A charm for everyone,
When he’d stroll the market fair,
It was his hidden pride to share.
Adorned with bells so bright,
Loaded with greens,
Roaming the streets,
Bringing in the cash for home.
He cherished it like a child,
He was very fond
But one night in the dark,
They slaughtered it, as if it was a calf
For the hunger had grown fierce
Now alone on these streets,
With his baskets on his back,
He keeps glancing around
Calling for his donkey’s track.
Dimitris Gogos, aka Bayanteras (1903-1985), The Donkey of Kyriakos (rebetiko), 1946
“One morning during the Occupation on Nikitara Street, passersby witnessed a horrifying scene. A dog lay in the street, gripping a horse jawbone, trying to gnaw at the last bits of cartilage near the joint. Suddenly, a man lunged at the dog, wresting the bone away… so he could eat the scraps himself.”
Pavlos Delaportas, The Stone of Sisyphus, Athens 1979