Τόλης Νικηφόρου, στην πρώτη γραμμή

Savages and Beasts, a novel

(excerpt)

      Upon entering Anton let his eyes travel around the space of the office which was as austere as Father Nicolas’ which he visited yesterday. Only this office had a bigger size crucifix mounted on the wall behind Father Jerome’s desk and the same sign Looking Unto Jesus was here too; Anton thought this must had been the Residential School logo; he also noticed that the big wheel of the facility, father Jerome, looked like a man of forty five and his appeal was nothing less than imposing as most other things in this school. He was sitting behind his desk and a few other persons  were also in the office. Gladys did the introductions. Father Jerome was the head master of the School, Sister Helen, geography teacher, Mary, administrative assistant, father Thomas the PE and gymnastics teacher, Father Peter, socials physics teacher, Father John, math teacher, Sister Naomi socials teacher and responsible for the dancing class, and Sister Anna, who was sitting in one of the chairs in front of Father Jerome’s desk; she was an older woman and a  music teacher responsible for the school choir too; they all greeted Anton and wished him well in his new job.

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Τόλης Νικηφόρου, πότε πέφτει η νύχτα

Τόλης Νικηφόρου, πεπρωμένο

Wheat Ears – Selected Poems

Match

Give me a match

he cried

just one match is needed

to light my fiery mind and

walking to the pulpit

he crossed himself before

taking communion

priest’s eyes rolled around

the congregation as if saying

this man doesn’t belong here

this man is not allowed

to stand before the icons

with a match in his hand and

in his other holding tight

the fuse of the dynamite

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Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume IV

THE GATE

Excerpt XL


Then we decided to return;

didn’t know what was a return, nor what was

the going forward; compass taken by waves,

severed ship ropes, broken oars; the candle wasn’t

for the ears nor for the eyes. Where can you find

the drowned men to mourn for them? We walked out

to the first land we arrived, broken by the wind,

rain and the rough seas, thrown there onto the rocks,

one on top of the other, we somehow made love

just to corner the cold and fear at the edge of our

bodies,

just to retain a bit of slimy warmth inside us like

worms in the coffin; there, at dawn

we discovered two churches occupied by seagulls

a golden little ship-offering was hanging in the middle

of the dome, behind the Communion Table, ravaged

wooden horse, two of its big teeth tumbled down

the marble stairs.

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Αντιγόνη Κατσαδήμα, Δύο ποιήματα

Ithaca Series, Poem # 671

 Painting John Hacking, The Netherlands

SIEGE

What is this siege,

this gloomy enclosure of armed men

beneath the walls of Troy?

It tells of ships in flames

and of the black sky

like the river covered in blood

after the battle.

But the war begins now

with the black heads

of the men—yours

who point swords at our house,

and you, woman,

who count the sound,

the sound of the stone

which sharpens the blades.

ΠΟΛΙΟΡΚΙΑ

Προς τί αυτή η πολιορκία

σκυθρωπών ανθρώπων

κάτω απ’ τα τείχη της Τροίας;

Μαρτυρεί τα φλογισμένα καράβια

και το μαύρο ουρανό

σαν το γεμάτο αίμα ποτάμι

μετά τη μάχη.

Μα ο πόλεμος τώρα ξεκινά

με τα μαύρα κεφάλια ανθρώπων

σαν το δικό σου

που σκοπεύεις το σπίτι με το σπαθί σου

κι εσύ γυναίκα

που μελετάς τον ήχο

της πέτρας που ακονίζει

τις λεπίδες

Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη//Translated by Manolis Aligizakis


Luca Benassi
, Italia

Μηχανισμός των Αντικυθήρων

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume III

AJAX (Excerpt)

Even at the hour of lovemaking, at night, in bed, you

suddenly remember the cloths-pegs left in the yard that

will rot in the dampness. Foolish women you send us

away from your bed, the house, the world, away from

your practical, wise mind, used to cook recipes, bake

sweets, mix medical potions, away from life with

the little, holy, daily events, with the certain objects

that relax all the unreachable great.

No one has ever asked me where my eyes are fixated,

where my mind goes, to which horrors, injustices

I’ve seen, which hatred I’ve faced (being fearless)

or whether I have a toothache or headache, as if

I don’t have head nor teeth, but a stone or plain wind

for a head. Why are you looking at me like that? Close

the doors, shut the windows, seal the gate and that black

fly, here it is, it sharpens its nails on the horn of the bull.

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