Υears ago I met a poet who had written (in Greek) a poem about this girl. I translate it a little rough.

FOREVER

On her body gallop hordes of
next door deceivers
adventurers of intercity caravans
who lost their map in the Balkans
metics who paid their fee to
morning newspapers and psychotropic tolls
unemployed traders of anticipation with dark
and rutty eyes
low minded petty crooks of inestimable social
usefulness
teenagers eunuchs with the agony of the moment
emptying their stomach

I too with them
an unimportant nothing that lowers its eyes
in front of her light
having my memories stay up late like sacred prayers
in the bedsheets of the working class, evenings
without redemption sprinkled with shavings of
small and medium sized magnificence - dreams and loves
of the ridiculous
trapped in a body of hadrons that
undermines every erection
poet without faith, defeated from the outset
a stranger
and she,
a melancholy expectation that is sold out
at the market of the ephemeral
like an African dream sprinkled with
stardust on a savannah night
bathed in the transparent nights of the Arctic
Cycle
between the estuaries of bamboo and
malaria
traveller of longitudes and latitudes
of the lonely oceans of New York
and the cool offices of stockbrokers
stateless predator of a breathless happiness
full of confidence for the future

alas the body is decomposed
and the impetus of the Danube that once
sculpted now stagnates
just before it turns around to its final fate
towards the waterfalls
I will glorify this body
of marble
the present and eternal
whose skin is embraced by silky
electricity
and whose glands gush honey and
milk

this body,
of promise
vowed that we would see paradise at least from
a mountain top
and for its sake we travelled forty
endless winters
chasing windmills or sacrificing lamb
this body,
boiling in the impatient magma of
sorrow
panting to rise to the heavens together with
sulfur
endless at dawn
stained with blue lace
and pearl pebbles
shouting
with his bright red lips frozen
in front of its next kill
“I' m here - and I will be forever”

Forever…
only in the imagination of poets does “forever”
exist