Engraving Elke Rehder

Christmas

Since the sky is empty
the earth has become fuller
With a thousand electric stars
and bargains with which retailers lure

Shepherds preach long
instead of angels sing the CDs
Even without the three sages
there are royal gifts

However, a child is born
the Messiah is not present
Anyway, it is a man who wishes
that heaven would not be so empty.

Georg Schwikart, Germany (1964)

ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥΓΕΝΝΑ

Άδειασε ο ουρανός και γέμισε η γη

χιλιάδες ηλεκτρικά φώτα

και προσφορές να ελκύσουν τον πελάτη

οι ποιμένες μακρολογούν

σαν άγγελοι οι δισκέττες τραγουδούν

και δίχως μάγους

τα βασιλικά δώρα προσφέρονται

Κι όμως, ένα βρέφος γεννήθηκε

ο Μεσίας απουσιάζει

κι ο άνθρωπος παρακαλεί

να ξαναγεμίσει ο Παράδεισος

Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη// translated by Manolis Aligizakis

REPETITIONS, SECOND SERIES

Danae

Perhaps her surrender in the bronze basement brought the attention

and the favor of the God. So much lust all those nights, so much

        freedom

in her narrow prison cell — the golden rain, the golden

         touching

thus gleaming totally naked, golden too, her sandals gleamed

         in the corner

and she was filling her old water pitcher with moon water.

                                                                                           Danae,

silent for nine months, incubating silence and shine, had

retained her eyes closed — so not a single ray, of that great

brilliance, would escape her. Then, the giggle of the baby and

his cry reached the ears of Acrisius.

                                                        And now, enclosed in a box,

both mother and the baby were thrown into the sea from where

the waves brought them to the shores of Serifos. But perhaps,

that way, from within the bronze basement, from inside the box,

the gleaming deed of most handsome Perseus popped up —

the severed head of Medusa which petrified our enemies.

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/w454dzp?page=1&pageSize=10

Αρχίζουν οι εργασίες στον Τύμβο Καστά – Διακόπτονται οι επισκέψεις

Words

As many

before me,

I wrote I love you
in the wet sand

and also drew there

a heart.

As many

before me,

I saw how the waves

washed away the words

and bit-by-bit

the heart.

 

The words were mine,

but whose was

the heart?

 

Petar Tchouhov, Bulgaria 1961-

English translation by the author & Stanley Barkan

 

 

                                                          ΛΕΞΕΙΣ

                                             Τόσες λέξεις στο νου μου

                                              Έγραψα στη νωπή άμμο

                                                        σ’ αγαπώ

                                                     εκεί σχεδίασα

                                                     και μια καρδιά

                                                        Τόσες λέξεις

                                                    κι είδα τα κύματα

                                                  να σβύνουν τις λέξεις

                                                       κι αργά αργά

                                                      και την καρδιά

                                                    οι λέξεις δικές μου

                                                μα τίνος ήταν η καρδιά;

                     Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη/translated by Manolis Aligizakis

 

Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

And time, always, turns

two people who love each other passionately

into two strangers indifferent to each other

who go to sleep alone, in different beds

and people meet and separate

without taking anything from one another,

because love is the most difficult way to get

           to know someone.

You remember, don’t you? We felt so warm

among the crowd as we walked filling the streets.

Our hands touched, our voices hugged in the songs

a strong light dripped off our flags that were

           up front

and off our dead who we had left behind.

Then finally the charge was successful, we got

in the city shouting and blowing the bridges;

we had meetings, chose revolutionary committees

and we existed among the flashes of fires,

the firings and the wind that was bringing

           the first autumnal leaves.

Because people, comrade, live from the moment

they find their place

in the life of others.

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/ke4yv6?page=1&pageSize=10

Repetitions

Repetitions

recurring events deaths

still you don’t dare

shake dust from your clothes

slit a new path for

rain the riverbed yearns for

repetitions of promises or vows

recurring battle victories

still you hold the sword

like an unspoken oracle

assume resolve in its edges

solutions in its skill to

truncate the early spring and

erase the word peace from your life

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/y26q9n?page=1&pageSize=10

Τζί­μης Πα­νού­σης: Φᾶ­τε μά­τια ψά­ρια

Η Μπαλάντα του κυρ’ Μέντιου

http://netakias.com/2023/09/21/%cf%83%ce%ac%ce%bb%ce%bf%cf%82-%cf%83%cf%84%ce%b7-%cf%83%cf%85%ce%bd%ce%ad%ce%bb%ce%b5%cf%85%cf%83%ce%b7-%cf%84%ce%bf%cf%85-%ce%bf%ce%b7%ce%b5-%ce%bc%ce%b5-%cf%80%cf%8c%cf%81%ce%bd%ce%b5%cf%82-%ce%ba/

REPETITIONS, SECOND SERIES

The True Glory of Bellerophon

He, who knows the splendid glory and the worst slander

and envy — he, the beautiful with the unique hair —

what gifts and favors, what golden harnesses, deeds, victories

and his rightful pride: that horse with the white wings, which

brought him to the thrones of the Gods, which, at the last

        hour

pushed him to emptiness, so he’d get to know it, so he’d get

to know himself and the world for the first time and for this

he deserved the poet’s verse:

                                                “He now saunters alone in

the Elysium Fields — all alone, next to thorns and fountains,

most handsome, almost watery, with no thirst or hunger”

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/w454dzp?page=1&pageSize=10