Constantine P. Cavafy – Poems

JULIAN IN NIKOMEDIA

Purposeless and dangerous things…

Praises for the ideals of the Greeks.

The theurgies and the visits to the pagan

temples. Enthusiasm for the ancient gods.

The frequent conversations with Chrysanthius.

The theories —the clever asides—of the philosopher Maximus.

And here is the result. Gallus shows a great

anxiety. Constantios has some suspicion.

Ah, the advisors were not at all wise.

This story—says Mardonius—has gone too far,

and the furor about it must finally end.—

Julian goes again as a lector

to the church of Nicomedia,

where in a loud voice and with deep reverence

he reads the Holy Scriptures,

and the people admire his Christian piety.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1723961833

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

POEM BY KOSTAS KARIOTAKIS

AS I DIE

In the relaxed time of the vernal twilight, my wounded soul,

what futile effort as you’ll fold your wings

when redemption you’ll long for something

poor soul, forever sad and desperate

when you reach the end of your line you’ll find

hatred and love, passions and vile always vanish

when the disappointment, like myrrh rises

from the exquisite flowers of life, my dreamy soul

that special moment when with a simple smile

you’ll remember enemies and friends

futile soul what will you say to the sea and to the wind,

my closed heart, when you stand opposite the pale dusk?

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

Expanse

There was nothing else in the night but

the immense dark expanse and the straight road

imperceptibly lit from within There

a big crashed bus

with one of its headlights on flooding

the five awakened startled chickens

and a dry branch of the inviolable

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

Δύστηνος έγκειμαι πόθω

Το κόσκινο's avatarTo Koskino

distinos_egkimai_potho

ΔΥΣΤΗΝΟΣ ΕΓΚΕΙΜΑΙ ΠΟΘΩ
ΕΚΔΟΣΕΙΣ: VAKXIKON.GR

ΤΟΥ ΘΕΟΧΑΡΗ ΠΑΠΑΔΟΠΟΥΛΟΥ

Πριν από λίγο καιρό είχαμε την ευκαιρία να διαβάσουμε την ερωτική ποιητική ανθολογία: «Δύστηνος Έγκειμαι Πόθω», που κυκλοφόρησε πρόσφατα από τις εκδόσεις: Vakxikon.gr σε μετάφραση Γιώργου Μπλάνα.

Πρόκειται για μια επιλογή ερωτικών ποιημάτων, που ξεκινά από την Αρχαία Ελλάδα για να φτάσει στο σήμερα, διαλέγοντας πάντα τους πιο αντιπροσωπευτικούς ποιητές από κάθε εποχή και από κάθε λογοτεχνικό είδος. Από τη Σαπφώ και τον Μπιλχάνα μέχρι τον Τριστάν Τζαρά και τον Μαγιακόβσκι.

Ένα στοιχείο, που παρατηρούμε είναι ότι ο κάθε ποιητής με τον τρόπο του μιλάει ερωτικά και ότι η γλώσσα του έρωτα είναι πάνω από ρεύματα και από λογοτεχνικές σχολές. Μπορεί ορισμένοι ποιητές, που συναντάμε στη συγκεκριμένη ανθολογία να έχουν χαρακτηριστεί σαν εκπρόσωποι του φουτουρισμού, του ντανταϊσμού και του σοσιαλιστικού ρεαλισμού, όμως, τα ποιήματα, που συναντάμε ξεφεύγουν από τα λογοτεχνικά είδη, που αναφέρθηκαν πιο πάνω, δείχνοντας ότι η έμπνευση, που προέρχεται από…

View original post 125 more words

Wheat Ears – Selected Poems

Peek

For an everlasting moment

he peeked through the hole

as if to declare his worthy words

as though orating a new passion

to flowerpots on the front porch

then he opened his door

and put his head out enough

to be in absentia from the inside

or away from the overhanging emptiness

and for no apparent reason

started pleading for light

for a new wide path and

for all the ancient dogmas that

millions have perished for in battle

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BS8SNKXM

George Seferis – Collected Poems

Pedlar from Sidon

Easily you’ll recognize

the Son of full-breasted Aphrodite

and Hermes (hermaphrodite)

The young pedlar came from Sidon

without any fear for the angry Poseidon.

His hair pitch black, his chiton purple

fastened on his shoulder by a golden clasp;

every pleat of his body smelling of myrrh and make up.

He entered Cyprus via the sea-port of Famagusta

and now he enjoys the sunshine in the back lanes of Nicosia.

A young Turkish girl in the courtyard and the ivy

she trimmed shivered at the touch of her ivory fingers.

The pedlar crossed the sun of the river like a walking God,

like a whispering dream singing ‘roses in the kerchief.’

As though his purple lips yearned to kiss Zeus’ sandals.

He walked that way and sat next to the gothic gatepost

where Marcus’ lion fixated its wild eyes

on the sleeping shepherd who smelled of he-goat and sweat.

He leaned, took out of his shirt a terracotta statuette and looked at it;

a naked youth that slides uncertain on a whore’s bed

between the concave Hermes and the curved Aphrodite.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Wheat Ears – Selected Poems

Sparrows

Flock of sparrows takes

charge of the plaza grounds

controlling the ebb and flow of bird

excursions telling everyone

to follow rules obey traffic signals

and certainly stop

at the intersection, look

both directions before fluttering to

the other side toward

pizza joint where there are

always plenty of crumbs

to eat while the young

sparrow sitting on the tree branch

contemplating, internal seeker

of truth composes his daily poem

and clipping his wing feathers he writes

no need for these anymore

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKHW4B4S

Neo-Hellene Poets, an Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry, 1750-2018

POEM BY ANTONIS FOSTIERIS

BOY AT THE MUSEUM

A boy has slept in the museum

for the last three thousand years

his bones have shuddered in the cold

they got full of holes for the stubbornness of the irrevocable.

A boy gets up from his bed at night

pulls the curtains aside to see the moon

the wild light startles him and he sleepwalks to the roof

just a little more and he’ll climb up to the clouds

just a little more and he’ll clean out God’s beard 

I’m lying, I’m lying a boy sleeps in the museum

eons trickle cold water on him

the eons buzz in his ears like bees

eons of ants around his mattress

just a little longer and he’ll rip the curtain of his sleep

he’ll get up and crying we’ll hug each other   

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

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

The Wound

To simplify things he would prefer

clean counters the white smooth

finished lines of statues

to carry on with his correspondence (he

acquired enough paper and envelopes last night)

forgetting that small turtle tied

by one of its legs with a string hung from the tree

that he never dared set free though there was

no one around to see him

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

Μήνυmal, ευγενίδιον

Το κόσκινο's avatarTo Koskino

δίπλα
χειμάζει ο λογιστής
των θυμικών μετα
μορφώσεων

κάτω απ
το στρώμα του θα βρουνε
ποδοπατημένα λάφ
υρα

μιαν
ιστορία θα σας πω

ψέλνει το υπερπέρατο

ο λόφος αποκρίνεται
θάλπει τους έρημους παλμούς
εκατομμυρίων εαυτών
των αγορών

ορών
εορακώς την αυγήν
αφίεμαι στην παχυλή σοδειά
δηλωτικών τιτιβισμάτων

ω χάρμα του χαράματος
ω πουλιά μηχανές
της πρωίας

ω
έμπει
εσύ λαλίστατε
σχιζοπροφ
ρίκε

ω παγωμένες
ακτές της συντήρησης
ω γραφικοί μελωδοί
της αντίρρησης
ω λα
λα
α

υποσκ
άψτε τη μέρα μου

ματίστε με
στο φ
ως

*Αναδημοσίευση από εδώ: https://mhnymal.blogspot.com/2021/10/evgenideion.html

**Ακούστε και αυτό: https://bandcamp.com/download?id=3803591153&ts=1681724991.2209007217&tsig=e4cd4d3accaeb78a909572c0b5ee96e9&type=track

View original post