Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

…she could stir
her shaking hands imperceptibly
trying in her foggy mind
to recall images of her past greatness
to the day
that with slow steps
she moved,
they moved her,
to the old folk’s home
three children were born
inside this room,
descendants of an honourable family
that vanished
no none of them ever lived,
one of them emigrated to America
the other had a horrible death, a drunkard,
and the third one
is still somewhere
as a lighthouse keeper
here, yes, inside this room
an immoral hand murdered
that brave man
to punish anarchy personally,
he said,
and the poplar leaned and died
and that foggy stain
on the floor
there by the corner
is the blood that was shed,
like a river, from the wound…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3744799#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Medusa

Early Years
Laughing benevolence
our soles splashed
into small water pools
filled by moving life and
Further away, our mother stooped,
Mothers always drank bitterness,
and collected sea snails and abalone
My brother, my Fate’s choice
moved his hand swiftly to grab the little crab
Before it took refuge in the crevasse
only a crab could see and
We lived in fear, for our father was
in a land unknown to our little world,
exiled, away from the pangs of the police
informants: such was our luck
that early in life we tasted
the bitter orphan waters
yet like tree branches we stretched
our limbs against the elements
and like birds prematurely, we grew wings

https://draft2digital.com/book/3745982#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763769

Constantine Cavafy

I Brought to Art
I sit and contemplate. Desires and feelings
I brought to Art: some half-seen
faces or contours, uncertain memories
of unfulfilled loves. Let me give myself to her.
She knows how to shape a Figure of Beauty.
almost imperceptibly, she complements life,
blending impressions, combining the days.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562856

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763823

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

Sunday
The sun will climb higher
today, since it’s Sunday.
The breeze flows and the stack
of the shrub stirs over that hill.
They’ll all dress festive cloths
and shall keep a light heart
look at the children in the street
look at the flowers in the orchard.
Now that the bells are chiming
god must be true
the clouds are blown far away
the sky becomes immense.
Oh leave the world in its joy
and come close to me, my soul,
a joyous song I shall sing
for you: the song of death.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562951

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763459

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

excerpt

Questions of Survival
“Why does Father Finten dislike me so?” Rordan held the post in place while Keallach
lifted the beam into position and secured it with two strands of vine.
“I’m sure you are mistaken, Brother. Father Finten cares for all of us. Hold that post
steady. I cannot tie it secure if you keep waving it around.” Keallach lashed the two
pieces together. Now he stood and faced Rordan. “I think Father Finten likes his Brothers
to be trusting, not always thinking the worst will happen as if abandoned by God.”
Rordan shook his head and spat a tiny mosquito onto the sand. “Do you really
believe that? Finten does his own share of complaining. Then he tells us to have
faith in Divine Providence.” He wished he could say what he really felt about Father
Finten without having to feel so guilty about it, like he was speaking against some
great saint.
“Be happy; we’re free of those Viking slavers.”
“That big wrestler could kill us all in our sleep.” Rordan did not really believe that,
but he hated to be put in his place.
“If Blonde Bear slits anyone’s throat, I am sure it will be yours. Now let’s get
this other end up and perhaps we’ll have a place to sleep tonight.” Keallach lifted
the other end of the beam into position and secured it, while Rordan held the
post almost steady.
White Eagle greeted the young brave, Broken Wing, with calm patience.
He himself would investigate. Mountain Lion, levelheaded in times of emergency,
would accompany him. This time, they’d approach the camp with great
care. These hairy strangers were unpredictable. This much they had already
learned.
“Vikings have been raping and killing innocent people since I can remember.
Why should Illska and Hrafen be any different?” Finten spoke as he took the lance
Bjorn had cut for him from a straight sapling. He felt the sharp barbed tip with his
thumb, having never before held such a weapon in his hand.
Bjorn was cutting another sapling to form a lance for himself. “In the old days, it
was different. Usually it was kill or be killed. Better to kill them first. Some fought
for land. Some fought for family. Of course, many raided for profit. And yes, many
were cruel and loved killing, raping and burning. But not all Norsemen are pirates.”
Having trimmed off the side branches, he now began to cut a point at the small
end. “My father and my father’s father were hunters. We lived on the land in peace.
My father treated his thralls with care and respect. They were allowed their language…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

Arrows

excerpt

…how to use the strainer made of woven palm leaves. She took me to a
kind of oven that consisted of a circular structure with a large, flat
earthen plate on top and a fire burning underneath. I poured the
grated root and scattered it into a more or less round cake. I stood
there watching over it, lest it burn. I admired my first cassava cake,
an irregular spill, and fingered it so often that it cracked into pieces. I
ate it that night—it tasted like triumph.
From a tree beside the hut where I slept, I ate mamones by the
dozen, playing with the big, velvety seeds in my mouth until my
teeth felt as if they would fall out. The guavas, which had disgusted
me because of the little worms that sometimes infested them, I now
ate with delight—worms and all.
In time, I learned to differentiate the people of the Teque nation
from the others, who remained indistinguishable. Pure joy filled me
when, thanks to the boys who had taught me to use a bow, I
contributed a small, wild pig. After that, people spurned me less.
Tiaroa, Guacaipuro´s sister, came to me one day and offered me
an onoto—a red-dyed, sleeveless, hoodless tunic. My cassock was in
tatters, but it was the significance of the gift that left me speechless:
they had accepted me. I took the tunic and went to Tamanoa´s grave
to show it to him, so that he could rest assured that I was making
progress.

Weeks turned into months. I kept my distance from Apacuana. As
far as I could tell, she was not living with Baruta, and yet she was not
with other men either. Sometimes when I went to my cave to pray, I
would wonder to myself what might happen if she ever followed me
there, and I struggled to dismiss these thoughts, and often flayed
myself accordingly.
I preferred to make progress teaching my language to
Guacaipuro. If he could one day learn to read the New Testament,
he might be awakened to the ways of our Lord. I often ate at his
house and exchanged words with him. He was particularly puzzled…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

Hour of Song
Next to the wine jugs
next to the fruit baskets
we forgot to sing
On the evening of our separation
with the consent of
the evening star alone
we sang

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562834

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763076

Übermensch

Treason
It was the second month of his betrayal, he dared died,
our God and we had come so far that we felt the need
to yell it from the depths of our lungs to make sure
the neighbors heard it: we were still here and we were
still poor.
Emptied syringes laid on the ground, relatives heard
the news, one of them, teary eyed, filled a glass
of brandy to our saints who died of sorrow, truly what
else was expected of us at this hour of reckoning?
Suddenly the bankrupt priest refused to eat with us
and taking his leave didn’t forget to claim his right to
his heaven, a man of principles that he was and
we knew the vacated house of the priest was already
occupied by Hades.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3746914#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BGFRGLVH

Neo-Hellene Poets, an Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry

VOICES OF THE SEA
Drink your wine in the dark tavern by the sea,
now that the autumn rains have started,
drink it with sailors facing you and stooping fishermen,
men whom poverty and angry seas have punished.
Drink your wine so that your soul grows free
and if grim Fate arrives smile upon it
and if new sufferings befall you let them also drink
and when Hades comes, calmly offer Him a drink as well.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562959

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513

Wellspring of Love

excerpt

“What are you doing in those clothes, Rachael? You look like a
hippie.” The words had only just left his mouth when he realized that
was exactly her intent.
Looking up at him, she giggled. “We were danshing. It wash … it
wash fun.” Her head fell back onto the sofa and she closed her eyes.
Ronald could not bring himself to move from where he stood staring
at her. He had rescued Rachael from many scrapes, or worse, but
this time he was at a total loss. What could he do with her? She was
drunk, that much was obvious. Ronald had seen the signs before but
never, God forbid, in his own family. He had the overwhelming urge
to sit down and cry. Taking a tight rein on his emotions, he leaned
over her, took her arm and tried to pull her to her feet.
“Don’t you dare go to sleep. I’ll make some strong coffee, then I’m
taking you home.” Let Morley and Tyne deal with her; this time she’s
gone too far.
“Let me sleep, please Ronnie,” she begged.
In her plea Ronald heard again the cries of a little girl – lost, cold
and near death in a frozen wasteland created by a prairie blizzard.
Hesitating for only a moment, he said, “Okay, you can sleep it off in
my bed. Come on, I’ll help you upstairs.”
“Oh no, you won’t, Ronald. She’ll sleep down here for what’s left
of the night.”
At the sound of Aunt Millie’s unusually stern voice, he swung around.
She was standing in the doorway of the downstairs hallway. Gray hair
formed a cloud around her pale face. One hand clutched a terrycloth robe
around her ample bosom; the other hand held out a long flannel nightgown
and a blanket in the direction of the startled girl on the sofa.
“Get out of those clothes and put this on. You’ll stay on the sofa
tonight, young lady. Ronnie needs his sleep. I’ll talk to you in the
morning when you’ve sobered up.” Millie Harper turned abruptly
towards her bedroom.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562917

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763327