POEM BY KOSTIS PALAMAS
IMAGINATION
Come, oh maiden, imagination
and you too ringleader thought
bring all the tireless workers
fairies of the rhythm
and bring the depth of lust
the heights of vision
and bring the flowers
made of gold and marble
the gleaming words
to build a palace and erect
the idol of the Sun inside it
and make it exquisitely great
adorable like a sun ray
Duality
And I laughed at the comedian’s joke
as if grabbing onto the ship’s handrail
that I wouldn’t fall into the abysmal
mouth of the monstrous logic
many men appeared hungry for my flesh
easy it was to talk to the inexplicable
when suddenly I felt the fangs
of the inexorable clock ticking
their strange hymn lamenting
my descent to Erebus, where
I was greeted by family members and after
my uncle Antony’s funeral
we all walked to the proper celebration
surprising them all as I too attended
and they all understood the meaning
of the eagle flying over us as if to confirm
on this earth and under it that we once existed
YANNIS RITSOS-POEMS, Selected Books
Η Ελένη/Helen
Ναι, τόσο ανόητοι κι αυτοί σαν κι εμάς· μονάχα πιο ήσυχοι. Ένας άλλος
σηκώνει το χέρι του επίσημα, σα να ’ναι να ευλογήσει κάποιον,
κόβει ένα κρύσταλλο απ’ τον πολυέλαιο, το φέρνει στο στόμα του
απλά, σα γυάλινο καρπό, — θαρρείς θα το μασήσει, θα βάλει σε κίνηση πάλι
μια λειτουργία ανθρώπινη· — όχι· το κρατάει ανάμεσα στα δόντια
έτσι να λάμπει το κρύσταλλο με μάταιες λάμψεις. Μια γυναίκα
παίρνει απ’ το στρογγυλό λευκό βαζάκι την κρέμα του προσώπου
με έμπειρη κίνηση των δύο δακτύλων της, και γράφει
στο τζάμι του παράθυρου δυο παχιά κεφαλαία —κάτι σαν Ε και Θ·—
ο ήλιος ζεσταίνει το τζάμι, η κρέμα λιώνει, στάζει στον τοίχο —
κι αυτό δε θέλει να σημαίνει τίποτα — δυο λιπαρά, σύντομα αυλάκια.
Yes they are as foolish as we are more quiet Someone
else
lifts his arm solemnly as if to bless someone
he pulls off a crystal piece of the chandelier brings it to his mouth
simply like a glass fruit – you think he will chew on it or he will
start
a human function again – no he keeps it between his teeth
so the crystal shines with futile flashes A woman
takes her face cream from the small round jar
with the expert movement of her two fingers and writes
two thick capital letters on the windowpane – something like H
and D –
the sun warms up the glass the cream melts drips down the wall –
and this doesn’t mean anything – two greasy short furrows
Pancakes
My good old friend Raphael was standing enigmatically
in front of the window flooded by the sea’s reflection and
the old lost things, “Raphael don’t bother yourself with
the beyond, let it be” I said to him as I was recuperating
from a long illness and I had such strange thoughts: to
extol a star, to love humanity or to become successful as
a poet of short tombstone verses. Until night came, time
when the street boys lick their lips under the full moon
that reminds them of auntie Thecla’s pancakes in the asylum
and the sea infiltrates God’s secrets because after each
difficult day a night comes no one knows how to spend.
Blood
Most people don’t understand
whether the sun rises
from behind the mountain or
is shot out of the pistol’s barrel
it always burns you.
For this so many of our dreams
remained unrealized
inexplicably happiness was laid
in the display window
of the department store and
loneliness was again eulogized
in churches, while as the years went by
him, the one with the severed arm,
kept on other people’s discolored
walls, truth always decorates
the cement, one word written
with fiery red letters:
blood, blood, blood.
Poem by Dimitris Liantinis
SHIELD
When the shield of the sun
descended to the careenage of the west
the face of day melted
mummy thrown into the light.
Trees set traps for the birds
where they bury their height
a ship sinks into the soil
and the beasts of the forest
have gone astray to the mountainous
goat paths.
The procurement of the stars reveals
blood in the ravine
that buzzes naked
slashing the skin of water
the flesh of things
can’t find refuge
in basil.
Linos’ skinned body hangs
over the midnight mast
Η ΠΟΛΙΣ
Είπες «Θα πάγω σ’ άλλη γη, θα πάγω σ’ άλλη θάλασσα.
Μιά πόλις άλλη θά βρεθεί καλλίτερη από αυτή.
Κάθε προσπάθεια μου μιά καταδίκη είναι γραφτή
κ’ είν’ η καρδιά μου—σάν νεκρός—θαμένη.
Ο νούς μου ώς πότε μές στόν μαρασμό αυτόν θά μένει.
Όπου τό μάτι μου γυρίσω, όπου κι άν δώ
ερείπια μαύρα τής ζωής μου βλέπω εδώ,
πού τόσα χρόνια πέρασα καί ρήμαξα καί χάλασα.»
Καινούριους τόπους δέν θά βρείς, δέν θάβρεις άλλες θάλασσες.
Η πόλις θά σέ ακολουθεί. Στούς δρόμους θά γυρνάς
τούς ίδιους. Καί στές γειτονιές τές ίδιες θά γερνάς
καί μές στά ίδια σπίτια αυτά θ’ ασπρίζεις.
Πάντα στήν πόλι αυτή θά φθάνεις. Γιά τά αλλού—μήν ελπίζεις—
δέν έχει πλοίο γιά σέ, δέν έχει οδό.
Έτσι πού τή ζωή σου ρήμαξες εδώ
στήν κώχη τούτη τήν μικρή, σ όλην τήν γή τήν χάλασες.
THE CITY
You said: “I’ll go to another land, to another sea;
I’ll find another city better than this one.
Every effort I make is ill-fated, doomed;
and my heart —like a dead thing—lies buried.
How long will my mind continue to wither like this?
Everywhere I turn my eyes, wherever they happen to fall
I see the black ruins of my life, here
where I’ve squandered, wasted and ruined so many years.”
New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas.
The city will follow you. You will return to the same streets.
You will age in the same neighborhoods; and in these
same houses you will turn gray. You will always
arrive in the same city. Don’t even hope to escape it,
there is no ship for you, no road out of town.
As you have wasted your life here, in this small corner
you’ve wasted it in the whole world.
Υπόσχεση
Kι υποσχεθήκαμε ποτέ να μην τον αρνηθούμε
ούτε μια νύχτα, ούτε μια μέρα ή μια στιγμή
μήτε κι ακόμα όταν μιλούσε στο δέντρο που μόλις
είχαν κόψει ή στα πανάρχαια φαντάσματα
που πέταγαν συχνά μες στην ψυχή μας.
Αστέρευτη η σιτοδεία βασίλισα της πείνας μας
αργά που εκύλησε η παιδική μας αθωότη σαν πάνω
στο υγρό καλντερίμι, και το μόνο που του ζητήσαμε
τη διδαχή να συνεχίσει και τ’ αρέσαμε που εδιαλέξαμε
θρύμματα να γίνουμε να μας φυσήξει ο αγέρας Του
στην αντιπέρα όχθη να περάσουμε. Τ’ αρέσαμε που
όλα τα περιφρονήσαμε ακόμα και το μυστήριο
της θυσία μας κι ο Υπεράνθρωπος εγέλασε κι είπε,
‘όλα καλά.’
Promise
And we promised never to deny Him not even
for a night or day, not for a single moment, even
when He spoke to the fallen tree or to those ancient
ghosts that often passed through our minds.
Endless famine of our race, queen of our bellies,
slowly crawled on wet cobblestones like our childish
innocence and we asked Him to continue His teaching
and He liked us because we chose to be scattered
into innumerable pieces that the wind may blow us
to the opposite shore. He liked us, because
we disdained everything even the secret for our
sacrifice. Übermensch smiled and said,
‘it was all good.’
Poem by Manolis Anagnostakis
YOUNG MEN FROM SIDON
We shouldn’t complain, really
your company was pleasant and full of vigor:
freshened girls, wholesome boys
full of love for life and for adventures
and your songs were sweet and meaningful
very sentimental, humane
for the children who died over the other continent
for the heroes killed in past years
for revolutionaries with black, green, reddish skin
for the grief of every suffering man
this involvement especially an honour for you
for today’s problems and struggle
you always appear and you fight, therefore
I believe it’s your right to play
in groups of two or three at a time
and to fall in love
to just relax, brothers, after such tiredness
(George, have you noticed we’ve aged prematurely?)
II
I walked from the harbor
to the house so many times!
One returns from church and
always something obstructs his breath
the moon, the wind
or an unnoticed shrub that stirs.
From the harbor to the house
ten, eighteen year old
Mrs. Xanthi died
the kore vanished
the old house of the crazy woman fell in.
Toward the field at night
the familiar magical landscape
spreads inside me:
acceptance and revolution
always start on my soil
Manolis Aligizakis 