Archive for May, 2011


Be silent
when people shore up their feet on earth
and their hearts sink within the banners of a glorious battle.
When cries of war swirl
slowly like snakes around your knees.

Be silent
when they whip all the daughters of Truth
who lie naked in the streets
to survive the insult

Be silent
when the knife is raised arrogantly
and you blossom under it
like a sunray ready to be sacrificed
to the leaden cloud.

And as you become silent
a thousand whispers will escape from your eyes
facing the ignorant

who never found the strength to cry
louder than the tear
delivering your silence to God

Ultimate Prayer.
Sworn Goodbye.


Να σωπαίνεις,
όταν οι άνθρωποι στυλώνουν τα πόδια τους στην γη
και βυθίζουν τις καρδιές τους μέσα στα λάβαρα μιας ένδοξης μάχης.
Όταν ιαχές πολεμικές τυλίγονται
αργά αργά σαν φίδια στα γόνατα σου.

Να σωπαίνεις,
όταν ραπίζουν όλες τις κόρες της Αλήθειας
που γυμνές ξαπλώνουν τους δρόμους
να περάσει ο χλευασμός.

Να σωπαίνεις
όταν υψώνεται το μαχαίρι, περήφανο
και εσύ από κάτω ανθίζεις,
σαν αχτίδα που ετοιμάζεται να γίνει θυσία
στο σκουριασμένο σύννεφο.

Και σαν σωπαίνεις..
χιλιάδες ψίθυροι θα δραπετεύουν από τα μάτια σου
αντικρίζοντας τους αδαείς.

που ποτέ τους δεν κατάφεραν να βγάλουν μια κραυγή,
πιο δυνατή από το δάκρυσμα εκείνο
που στέλνει την σιωπή σου στον Θεό..

Ύστατη Προσευχή.
Ορκισμένο Αντίο.


They call them the lost children
no womb had ever felt them
nor did they ever nourished in breast-fed ideas
Lightning was their kiss
and for a father they had a faithless sky

They call them the lost children
their hearts melted
on fiery highways
in the constant search of their Ithaca
that has never existed

During the day
while still babies in their cribs
snakes blanketed their gentle dreams
and slaughtered beasts and demons
with their breath.

During the night
like children
they hid their knives
so that dawn was never cut in two
so that the light would come and summon them

mated with death
lost in wild nights
overtaken by passions
In a flash of a second they would bet
that they could love
Affection incised illusions of sleep in their foreheads
and hopes dripped away in vain

They call them the lost children
If you meet them
do not tell them that you love them
Bid them …Farewell.
They never lived
in this world
yet had they lived
the world had never loved them.


Τα λένε Χαμένα παιδιά
Ποτέ δεν τα ένιωσε καμία μήτρα.
Ποτέ δεν βύζαξαν ιδέες
Οι κεραυνοί ήταν τα φιλιά τους
και είχαν για πατέρα έναν άπιστο Ουρανό

Τα λένε Χαμένα παιδιά.
Έλιωσαν την καρδιά τους
πάνω σε φλεγόμενες λεωφόρους
ψάχνοντας μια Ιθάκη
που δεν γεννήθηκε ποτέ.

Τις μέρες
όταν ακόμα ήταν μωρά στις κούνιες
τα φίδια πλάκωναν τα όνειρα τους
και σφάζανε δαιμόνους
με τις ανάσες τους.

Τις νύχτες
σαν παιδιά
κρυβανε τα μαχαίρια
να μην κοπεί η Αυγή στα δυο
και έρθει το φως και τα αρπάξει..

ζευγάρωναν με τον θάνατο
σε άγριες νύχτες χάνονταν
και τους λήστευαν οι Πόθοι.
Στοιχημάτιζαν σε δευτερόλεπτα
ότι αγαπούσαν
Η στοργή κοίμιζε στο μέτωπο τους αυταπάτες
και στάλαζε μάταιες ελπίδες.

Τα λένε Χαμένα παιδιά
αν τα δείτε
μην τους πείτε.. σε αγαπώ..
Πείτε τους.. Αντίο.
Δεν έζησαν ποτέ
σε αυτόν τον κόσμο
και αν έζησαν
ο κόσμος δεν τα αγάπησε ποτέ.


Love me if you dare!
I’m the hand who raises your hands to worship
I am the womb that gave you birth
I’m the junkie who was told a junkie must bear everything
I’m the boozer who believes that wine is refuge
I am the beggar struggling to hold on to something that he sleeps on
I’m the little child tangled in your feet
as you run to catch the subway
I am your senseless day
I am the night that spits venom
I am your lost smile

Love me if you dare!
I’m your fear for all the times you got hurt
the anger for all those dreams driven over by running highway trucks
I am the pain that came to find you at the time of your great certainty
I am the victor’s doubt
the sorrow and humiliation of the defeated

Love me if you dare!
There are no limits to love
one never loses
There is nothing of what belong to you that can be lost when you are in love.

Love me if you dare!
And give me something
not like the cheap textiles merchant
but like the hermit who gives his last drop of water to the tree
not like a passing cloud
but like the rain that moistens the dry earth and becomes one with its essence
not like fire that renders the air naked
but like a flame that can warm up even the mudflats

Love me if you dare!
With the passion of the discoverer
with the love of a saint
with the courage of the explorer
Love me as a Human
as I am YOU


Αγάπα με αν τολμάς !
Είμαι το χέρι δίπλα σου, που σηκώνει τα χέρια για προσευχή.
Είμαι η μήτρα, που σε γέννησε.
Είμαι το πρεζόνι, που του είπαν πως μαστουρωμένος μπορεί να αντέχει.
Είμαι ο μπεκρής, που πιστεύει πως το μπουκάλι είναι λήθη.
Είμαι ο ζητιάνος, που παλεύει να κρατηθεί από το τίποτα που έχει για μαξιλάρι.
Είμαι το μικρό παιδί, που μπλέκεται στα πόδια σου,
ενώ τρέχεις να προλάβεις το μετρό.
Είμαι η άδεια σου μέρα από αισθήσεις.
Είμαι η νύχτα, που ξερνά δηλητήριο.
Είμαι το χαμένο σου χαμόγελο.

Αγάπα με αν τολμάς
Είμαι ο φόβος ,για όσες στιγμές πόνεσες.
Η οργή ,για όσα όνειρα δολοφονηθήκαν κάτω από τρελά φορτηγά.
Είμαι ο πόνος, που ήρθε να σε βρει την ώρα της μεγάλης σου βεβαιότητας.
Είμαι η αμφιβολία του νικητή.
Η θλίψη και η ταπείνωση του ηττημένου.

Αγάπα με αν τολμάς
Δεν υπάρχουν όρια στην αγάπη..
Δεν χάνεις ποτέ..
Δεν υπάρχει τίποτα να χάσεις από όσα σου ανήκουν όταν αγαπάς.

Αγάπα με αν τολμάς..
Και δώσε μου..
Όχι σαν έμπορος φτηνών υφασμάτων..
Αλλά σαν ερημίτης που χαρίζει στο δέντρο την τελευταία του σταγόνα από νερό..
Όχι σαν σύννεφο περαστικό..
Μα σαν βροχή που ποτίζει το ξερό χώμα και γίνεται ένα με την ουσία του..
Όχι σαν φωτιά που απογυμνώνει τον αέρα.
Μα σαν φλόγα δυνατή που ζεσταίνει ακόμα και στους λασπότοπους

Αγάπα με αν τολμάς…
Με το πάθος ενός εφευρέτη.
Με τον Έρωτα ενός Αγίου.
Με την τόλμη ενός εξερευνητή.
Αγάπα με Άνθρωπε
Εγώ είμαι Εσύ..

More on Diakidis
Calypso Diakidis: A Promising Greek Poet


The following poems, ‘Adagio’ and ‘Myrtle’, are a part of a new collection of poetry by Manolis titled ‘Vortex’. View the two poems in English and Greek.


Breeze came again with soft
lashes and tender unshaven
beard to caress your cheek

resting on opaque pillows
as the nightingale lilts
of lust and feathery

fingertips design a
contour around
your right breast standing

like a thunderbolt in Zeus’
hand ready to light dark
corners of a mind shadowy

pleats of focused attention
demanded by your breast’s
poetic persona


Η δροσια γύρισε πάλι μ απαλα
ραπίσματα λεπτο αψύριστο
γένι να χαιδεύει το μάγουλο σου

που ακουμπα στο μαλακό μαξιλάρι
καθως το τριζόνι μονολογει
για συνουσίαση και φτερωτα

ακροδαχτύλια να ζωγραφίζουν
αόρατη καμπύλη γύρω
απ το δεξι σου στήθος

κι ίσταται σαν του Δία
τ αλεξικέραυνο έτοιμο να φωτίσει
γωνια του νου μου και

τις σκιαιρές πτυχές της προσοχής
που η ποιητικη έκφραση
του στήθους σου διεκδικει


Short myrtle crying in
the dusk as none cared
to take her fragrance

and day is almost gone
shadows elongate and chirps
quiet down but her sobbing

in my backyard sun
still touches flower tips
gracefully embalming golden

hues, rose petal to jasmine
miniature tube and a lonely cock
sits on the fence myrtle’s crying

confuses him cock yearns for
morning and calls dawn at
such an early hour giving me

the chance to enjoy short
myrtle vine’s aroma, evening star
appearing ready to charge


Κοντόκλαδη μυρτια και γιατι κλαις
στο ειρηνικο ηλιοβασίλεμα
που τ αρωμα σου δεν εκλέψαν

κι η μέρα μόλις χάνεται
απόσκια παίζουν στα κλαδια σου
κι οι σπίνοι σταματούν το σάλο τους

στης πίσω μου αυλής το μέστωμα
σε φεγγαριού τροχο και λάμψη
αμυδρό του ροδανθού χαμόγελο

χρυσίζουσες ανταύγειες κελαηδούν
στ ακρόκλωνα σου κι ο κόκορας
σαν το μονια στη μάντρα καθιστός

διαλογίζεται για το σκοπο
της αλλη μέρας τραγουδιου του
και ξεχασμένος τάχατες

μες το λεπτό σου αναφυλητο
σηκώνεται μεμιας και κράζει
στο γελαστο αστεράκι που κατσουφιάζει
κι ανοίγει διάπλατα τα μάτια

‘Vortex’ by Manolis is set to be released in October 2011.


May 13, 2011
Why a debt audit in Greece?
By Maria Lucia Fattorelli

After 6 days in Greece, all I could hear from many Greek people is: “we don’t know what is our public debt; we can’t understand how come it became so immense, because we don’t see it’s correspondence in investments, benefits, or anything to the country; workers only know we are paying too much taxes and having our rights being cut down every day with closing of schools, hospitals, kindergartens; employee going high and we’re are hit every day with terrorist information about the future of our country’s economy and even risk for our historical monuments”.

The women are the main victims of these measures, because they are the first ones to be filled from their jobs, and the last ones in line for new jobs. Also, when social services are cut down or eliminated, it’s expected that women will take care of services like health, education, assistance, children care, and many others, without any payment.

People is confused because everything is going on too fast and day by day new adjustment measures are announced, with the strong interference of IMF, European Central Bank and European Commission – the Troika – in the internal matters of Greece economy and policies, interfering directly in the people’s life and in Greek’s sovereignty.

One year ago, the memorandum was signed with IMF. Since then, currently new revisions and new measures are imposed directly to the Greek society, because the Greek Parliament is not even voting these measures that are recommended by the Troika and, in the next day, are already being practiced. The direct intervention of the Troika is a completely new situation for a society who gave birth to democratic way of government in the world history.

All this social, economic and political damage is a consequence of the so called “debt” crisis. But we must remember that it didn’t start as a debt crisis, but as a bank crisis: a financial private sector problem.

In 2008, the largest financial crisis beat the main financial institutions in the USA, because of a huge “bubble” originated by the issuing of an immeasurable amount of series and series of derivatives and other kinds of financial products without any real value, which loaded the financial market of “garbage”. This procedures were possible because the existing controls under the SEC |1| – that had the role, since the 1929 crisis, to control the “quality and authentic” of papers deal in the financial market – were disrespected and bypassed for the many financial institutions.

The media generally nominates these “garbage” papers as “toxic assets”. The amount of derivatives and all toxic papers was so large that Obama thought about creating “bad banks” in order to “clean up” the financial system. That idea also came up in Europe in early 2009:

It’s very important to know that the institutions who issued these papers are the largest and most important ones of the financial world, because they are the ones who have “credibility” to have their own papers accepted and negotiated in the financial market. Only very few of these important institutions broke up – Lehman Brothers, for example – but soon the USA approved a plan to bailout the financial system, by transferring great amount of public resources into financial institutions in order to rescue them, saving them from bankruptcy. The same plan went on in Europe in 2009, and since the beginning, everyone knew this plan represented a serious risk for all countries, as shown on the Feb 2009 new:
(image not included)

Thus, in a certain point, besides aware of the risk of economic ruin, all countries in the North started to put a lot of money in the financial sector, in order to rescue institutions. There is no transparency about this amount of money that has been given by countries to the financial sector. Estimative goes up to trillions, but no country has revealed clearly the right amount that has been given to bailout banks since 2008, and many “secret” documents – as mentioned in the notice above – has been produced.

The worry part of the history is that the northern countries didn’t have, on their budgets, all the money they decided to give to banks. This way, countries created public debt by issuing public bonds to give to banks in order to fill up the big role created by their “toxic assets”. So, a significant part or the “sovereign bonds” of these countries did not represent real “public debt”, or bond issuing to obtain resources to the country, but simply the utilization of debt mechanism to guaranty funds to financial institutions.

Besides this, the deregulation of the financial market is permitting the use of sovereign debt bonds as if they were cards or chips of a casino, used for gamblers bets and games. How can a society be responsible for the losses of such irresponsible and immoral operations, which are taking money from essential services like Health, Education, Assistance, Security, Sanitation, provoking the loss of thousands of employee and, in the other side, making many gamblers very very rich?

Can the result of these operations be considered as “public debt”? The good economy books explain that public debt is an instrument that can be used to finance the stat needs. The bonds issued to bailout banks can’t be considered as public debt, but should be treated as a separated loan to be paid by the banks, not by the entire society.

The instrument of “public debt” is being used now in Europe as it has been used in Latin America since the 70’s. The experiences of debt audit – official audit in Ecuador and citizen initiative in Brazil – have proved that in the last 40 years the only beneficiary of the commercial external debt were the large international banks; instead of being an instrument to finance state activities, this kind of debt in bonds was a mechanism to transfer public resources into the private financial sector.

The debt-audit also proved that the financial crises we had in 1982 were provoked by the same international private creditors and that crises opened the opportunity for an intense interference of IMF in our economies with fiscal adjustment plans – just like it’s happening now in Europe – that cost as at least 2 decades of heavy social sacrifice (that we call lost decades) in order to guarantee benefits for the financial sector.

It’s very important that European countries, who are not under dictatorships as we were in the 80’s in South America, organize civil commissions, like our organization in Brazil – to research documents, encourage popular investigations, studies, social mobilization and elucidation about this debt process as soon as possible.

A debt-audit is an opportunity to have documents and proves of the real nature of the so called “public” debt. The findings of the audit can push concrete actions in all fields: popular, parliamentarian, legal and any other policies.

Most part of Greek public debt is reflected in sovereign bonds. The first question we must ask is: What part of Greek public debt comes from bonds issued to rescue banks? What part of this debt has never being really received by Greece, because is just a result of financial mechanisms, attacks, and speculations in financial market? Does anyone own what has never received? Is it right that all Greek people pay for this?

That’s why it’s so important to have a debt audit in Greece and the organizers of the recent Conference of Debt Audit in Athens and Seminar in Tessaloniki deserve all congratulations for opening this urgent debate.

|1| SEC – Securities and Exchange Comission in United States of America.

Maria Lucia Fattorelli is Coordinator of Citizen Debt Audit-Brazil since 2001; Member of the Commission of Debt Audit of Ecuador (2007-2008) and Assessor of Brazilian Parliamentarian Investigation of Public Debt (2009-2010): CPI da Dívida da Câmara dos Deputados em Brasília. Citizen Debt Audit-Brazil is part of CADTM international network.

From: CADTM.Org


Γνωρίζει πια πως
δεν είναι οι ανόητες Σειρήνες
που τραγουδούν νομίζοντας πως κάνουν τέχνη
ούτε η γερασμένη Κίρκη
με τον πόθο
καταχωνιασμένο σε ασκούς για πάντα σφραγισμένους
ούτε κάποια κακομαθημένη Ναυσικά
εγκλωβισμένη σε λάθος ηλικία
με άσπρες κάλτσες και φουστάνια παιδικά.
Ούτε οι Λαιστρυγόνες και οι Λωτοί είναι αυτοί
που τον κρατούν μακριά της.
Ούτε οι συντεχνιακοί μικροθυμοί του τάχα Ποσειδώνα
και τα μπλεξίματα με τους παλιούς συντρόφους.
Γνωρίζει πια η Πηνελόπη
το τελευταίο μήνυμά της θα μείνει αναπάντητο,
δεν θα ξαναμιλήσουν πια,
η λογική του υπαγορεύει να μείνει μακριά της,
παντού ολόγυρά της
μνηστήρες πίνουνε ρακή
κυλιούνται σαν λιοντάρια στην αρένα
αρσενικά που οσμίζονται τον πόθο
και με τα βέλη τους ορίζουνε τον χώρο.
Και ο Οδυσσέας;
Δεν τον θυμάται πια η Πηνελόπη.
Μόνο πως με έναν άγνωστο κοιμήθηκε ένα βράδυ
Και όταν τον ρώτησε ποιος είναι
αυτός απάντησε: «Ο Κανένας».

PENELOPE III (Unpublished)

She knows by now
that the Sirens are not fools
that they sing thinking of creating art
nor the old Circe
in her lust
hidden in windbags forever sealed
nor the misbehaving Nausica
trapped in the wrong age
wearing white socks and childish dresses
nor the Lestrygonians and the lotus
It is them keeping him away
nor Poseidon’s petty angers
and the mix-ups with his old companions
Penelope knows by now
her last message will remain unanswered
they’ll never talk to each other again
logic compels him to stay away from her
All over her
suitors drink raki
and roll like lions in the arena
males who sniff lust
and with their arrows define space
and Odysseus
Penelope doesn’t remember of him anymore
only that one night she slept with a stranger
and when she asked of his name
he answered ‘I have no name’

ΠΗΝΕΛΟΠΗ ΙV (ανέκδοτο)

Της έλειπε πολύ.
Όχι γιατί ήλπιζε ή φοβόταν.
Αλλά γιατί κάποια βράδια το ίδιο το νησί
ξεκολλούσε από το σώμα της
και χανόταν στην μαύρη θάλασσα που άχνιζε.

PENELOPE IV (Unpublished)

She missed him so much
not that she hoped or was afraid
but because some nights this very same island
got unattached from her body
and vanished in the black steamy sea

ΑΝΤΙΓΟΝΗ Ι (Στην ποιητική συλλογή η Αποχώρηση της Λαίδης Κάπα, 2004)

Πάντα κάτι ξεχνάει η Αντιγόνη όταν φεύγει.
Ένα δαντελένιο γάντι στα μεταξωτά σεντόνια,
μιαν αχνιστή σταγόνα από λεμόνι
στο μάγουλο του φίλου,
ένα φευγαλέο άγγιγμα στο μπράτσο του εραστή,
ένα αποτύπωμα χειλιών στο πορσελάνινο φλιτζάνι
του τσαγιού που μισοπίνει βιαστικά.
Είναι η Αντιγόνη που ξεχνά,
το αραχνούφαντο μαντήλι μουσκεμένο
απ’ τα ξαφνικά δάκρυα της στιγμής
το ομπρελίνο από εύθραυστη βροχή.
Είναι η Αντιγόνη που ξεχνά,
το φόρεμά θροίζει καθώς τρέχει,
η βεντάλια της αλλάζει εποχές.
Πάντα κάτι ξεχνάει η Αντιγόνη.
Γι αυτό και πάντα φεύγει.
Μόνο, κάποιες νύχτες, αρχίζει κάτι να θυμάται,
φοράει την νεκρική της μάσκα
ρίχνει στάχτη στα μαλλιά της
θαμμένη στη σπηλιά της
θρηνεί τους άταφους νεκρούς.

ANTIGONY I (From the Collection ‘The Departure of Lady Kappa)

When Antigony leaves she always forgets something
a lacy glove on the satin bed-sheet
a steamy drop of lemon
on a friend’s cheek
a stolen touch on a lover’s arm
a lip-mark on the porcelain tea-cup
when she drinks hastily
It is Antigony who forgets
the gauzy handkerchief moistened
by the sudden momentary tears
the little umbrella in the fragile rain
It is Antigony who forgets
the dress that rustles as she walks
the fan that changes seasons
Antigony always forgets something
for this she always leaves
only some nights she starts remembering something
she sprinkles ashes on her hair
buries herself in her cave
and laments for the unburied dead


Έρχομαι σε σένα με το σώμα μου γυμνό.
Πρώτα παχουλό και ασχημάτιστο
με δίπλες στα χέρια και στα πόδια
ύστερα έφηβο στο μωβ του κοχυλιού
χωρίς την εισβολή του μολυβιού
που θα αλλάξει την άγνοια της γραφής
τέλος γυναικείο,
με εγγεγραμμένη
την κοιλάδα της απώλειας
φουσκωμένο με την υγρή βεβαιότητα της γέννας
με λέξεις καμπύλες
για να κρύβουν και να έλκουν
με τα κενά ανάμεσα στους στίχους
για να σιωπούν
και να χωρούν το σχήμα των δαχτύλων σου.
Έρχομαι σε σένα
κάθε βράδυ,
ποίημα γυμνό και μόνο
γεμάτο ψίθυρους και αρχαία μυστικά.
Για να με διαβάσεις.


I come to you with my naked body
at first chubby and unshaped
with folds of skin on my arms and legs
then a teenager in the conch’s purple
without the pen’s interference
that would change the ignorance of writing
a woman’s purpose
with an incised
valley of loss
swollen by the moist certainty of childbirth
with contour words
that hide and attract
with gaps between the verses
that they may stay silent
and contain the shape of your fingers
I come to you
every night
a naked and lonely poem
filled with whispers and ancient secrets
that you may read me


Ένα ποίημα με τριγυρίζει από χθες.
Μου φέρνει πονοκέφαλο και ζάλη.
Αποστρέφω το κεφάλι.
Με την άκρη του ματιού
το διακρίνω
πηχτό λεκέ
στην άκρη του γραφείου.
Δεν είναι προσωπικό, του λέω
δεν θέλω άλλα ποιήματα
ούτε ατμόπλοια με ρύζι φορτωμένα,
χόρτασα τα υπερπόντια ταξίδια
με βαπόρια υψηλών προδιαγραφών
μια σχεδία θέλω μόνο
σε πλαστική αυτοσχέδια πισίνα
σε μιαν αυλή σιδερικών,
ένα αναπαυτικό κορμί μια πάνινη καρέκλα
για να ξεκουραστώ.
Έτσι του είπα.
Κι αυτό με εκδικήθηκε.
Και γέμισε με σένα και από σένα.
Κι έγραψε τον εαυτό του.


A poem has been swirling around me since yesterday
it gives me a headache and vertigo
I turn my head to the side
at the edge of my vision
I discern it
a thick stain
at the edge of my desk
This is not personal—I say to it
I don’t want any more poems
nor steamships loaded with rice
I am fed up with the oceanic voyages
on ships of high underwriter’s costs
a raft is all I want
in a plastic self contained pool
in a yard full of rusted metal
one restful body a chair made of cloth
that I rest
This I said to it
and it took its revenge on me
and it got filled by you and with you
and it wrote itself


Θα σε περιμένω.
Σε έναν σταθμό που δεν υπάρχει ακόμα.
Στο κέντρο εκεί της ερημιάς.
Γύπες θα κυκλώνουνε τα τρένα
Φαλακρά μωρά θα κλαίνε γοερά.
Θα έρθεις.
Με ένα τρένο
που πια δεν λειτουργεί
χωρίς φρένα και μηχανοδηγό
κατρακυλάει στ’ αστέρια.
Όταν κατέβεις δεν θα μ’ αγκαλιάσεις.
Δεν θα μου πεις πως μ’ αγαπάς.
Μόνο θα σηκώσεις το χέρι
και τρυφερά θα στρώσεις το γιακά
απ’ το τριμμένο μου παλτό.


I’ll wait for you
in a station not yet built
in that center of loneliness
where condors swirl around the trains
where bald babies wail loudly
You will come
with a train no longer in service
without brakes nor engineer
train that rolls among the stars
When you disembark you won’t hug me
you won’t tell me that you love me
you will only raise your hand
and tenderly you’ll rearrange the collar
of my worn out overcoat

Χλόη Κουτσουμπέλη

Γεννήθηκε στην Θεσσαλονίκη το 1962 και αποφοίτησε από την Νομική Σχολή του Αριστοτελείου Πανεπιστημίου Θεσσαλονίκης. Έχει εκδώσει πέντε ποιητικές συλλογές: Σχέσεις Σιωπής, εκδόσεις Εγνατία, 1984, Η νύχτα είναι μια φάλαινα, εκδόσεις Βιβλιοπωλείου Λοξίας 1990, Η αναχώρηση της Λαίδης Κάπα, εκδόσεις Νέα Πορεία 2004, Η Λίμνη, ο Κήπος και η Απώλεια, εκδόσεις Νέα Πορεία 2006. η Αλεπού και ο Κόκκινος Χορός, εκδόσεις Γαβριηλίδης 2009
Έχει εκδώσει ένα μυθιστόρημα: Ψιθυριστά, εκδόσεις Παρατηρητής 2002 και ένα θεατρικό έργο: Ορφέας στο μπαρ, εκδόσεις Πάροδος, 2005. Ποιήματα και διηγήματα της έχουν δημοσιευτεί στα περιοδικά Ιώδιο, Ρεύματα, Παρατηρητής, Νέα Πορεία, Πάροδος, Πανδώρα, Παρέμβαση, Εντευκτήριο, Ένεκεν, Μανδραγόρας, Εμβόλιμο, στα ηλετρονικα περιοδικά poetica, poiein και e poema.
Toν Νοέμβριο του 2003 n Εταιρεία Νόσου Αlzheimer και συναφών διαταραχών εξέδωσε το παιδικό της αφήγημα «η αρρώστια που κάνει τους ανθρώπους να ξεχνούν» που απεικονίζει τον τρόπο που ένα οκτάχρονο κοριτσάκι αντιλαμβάνεται την αρρώστια της θείας του.
Επίσης το γραφείο Τύπου και Πληροφοριών της Κυπριακής Δημοκρατίας το 2008 εξέδωσε ένα παραμύθι της με τίτλο:«Η χώρα του Με» που διακρίθηκε σε διαγωνισμό στον οποίο συμμετείχαν Έλληνες και Κύπριοι συγγραφείς παιδικών βιβλίων.
Ποιήματα της έχουν μεταφραστεί στα Γαλλικά, Ιταλικά και Αγγλικά και δραματοποιηθεί από ηθοποιούς του Κρατικού Θεάτρου Β. Ελλάδος στο πλαίσιο των Κυριακάτικων Λογοτεχνικών Πρωινών με επιμέλεια της κυρίας Ρούλας Αλαβέρα σε σκηνοθεσία Νίκου Ναουμίδη.
Εδώ και έξι χρόνια σε σχολεία και βιβλιοθήκες οργανώνει ένα εργαστήρι ανάπτυξης του δημιουργικού λόγου για παιδιά δημοτικού και Γυμνασίου, μέσα από το οποίο τα παιδιά ενθαρρύνονται να γράφουν τα δικά τους παραμύθια και τις δικές τους ιστορίες. Είναι μέλος της Εταιρείας Λογοτεχνών Θεσσαλονίκης.

Tranlsated by Manolis


Sometimes at night my loneliness is beautiful. It arouses my curiosity. I sit like a spectator before a play endlessly repeated. I try to enjoy it, what else can I do?
I go back to bed and there is where I meet my real suffering; a very soft one it doesn’t contain me a very long is so empty. I wish to rest, to relax but my mind plays strange games with me. It takes me once to the past once to the future. It exhausts me with its wants, its must, its why…


Oh my heart which words can I write for you that they may put you to sleep? Please make some room that I come and cuddle in your embrace to fall asleep like old times…Hidden paths appear in my eyes and make me smile. Scandalous girl full of agony for the pointless of those paths, I look around me as though afraid that someone
may be following me. I walk and talk about you. Oh my heart, what do I search for? Where is this path leading me?


There are sometimes when you feel that time has frozen, there are other times when you wish that it passes by hastily. Hopeless expectations in the compass of your mind and there are so many others so barren that keep you awake.
I met her at my nowhere; I recognized her as soon as our eyes met by chance and dictated the fate of the mind’s wanderings. The impossible seems as an earthly sight leading to the power of ‘wants’ and ‘musts’ firings that miss their fateful way.
I had no name, they called me something else. I had nothing to show but my mistakes, mistakes and passions at the crosshair of some perhaps moments of mine. The days simply trickled along and as a result the clock’s fingers moved according to their own time defined by chance and my false hours simply agreed to that passing.


I had so much to tell you! But at this time I would like to caress you, to look at you to vanish in the feeling of your hands, my hands. How can I place all these in these so small moments of time? How can I paint them with just two colors?
This garden is a refuge I grab God’s blessing and walk away. I take your hand I ask you to follow me to a walk deep in a green decorated labyrinth, fully lit, made by people of vision. Let me surround you with this moment in time. Let yourself in this route that is filled by reflections of the sun over us. We shall find our directions, oh my heart! Shall we be able to find the exit of this path?


I met her in my nowhere and the fire of her eyes turned into the terminus of my wanderings. It pierced my mind like an apparition that went inside and dug up my wants as though they were the simplest thing to do and I adorned what I found in her eyes that faint reflection that was my own. And for a moment I loved myself, in her, as I emerged from her eyes.
I could die for the moment I shared with her my heart pulsed harmoniously hearing her words and I bent in yearning for her touch. I wished time froze when I was with her I wished time wouldn’t pass I begged of the gods to not take her away from me, I wished she wouldn’t go but I remained always thirsty for her and I died instead of regaining life.


I talk to you. Do you hear me? A thousand silences a thousand words but a lot more emotions. Yes, you hear me. You hear the words emerging from my heart’s warmth. What can I do? Do I speak for both of us? Do I write for both? Can I breathe for both? One heart, so many pulses, so many lives gathered together here. The lives we once lived together and the ones we never lived.
You still follow me, you stand beside me, you never melted in my fire. I discreetly look at you. You can endure…Can you endure?


I whispered to her about the nights when my sobs become one with the sounds of the angry sky I gestured to her about my despair that ripped my flesh and about my battle that I couldn’t fight anymore. I whispered to her for everything possible but I never imagined that this creature of my fantasy would unravel so many things even to me unrecognizable. And I was charmed by the unexpected and I was angry at her soul that was dedicated only to me, that was all over me, spread, floating in the air. And I was angry at her intense ability that rebuilt and gave her many appearances.


You took me in your embrace and for a moment I closed my eyes. Oh my soul, I’m not cold anymore! For this short moment and with my eyes closed I am guided by you. I go by the forest that has been there since the beginning of time. I smell fragrances unknown to me I enjoy sounds that reach my ears I feel you next to me. Within all these I follow the path of your hands over me, ‘warm sensation full of lust’ you whisper.
—For me?
All the plans you dream off, once. But never dare admit to them for the second time. All the other dreams that you keep hidden inside you, you also see them only once standing before you that they bring sorrow when they never turn into reality. For a single moment you may see them before you, you may touch them faintly as they regain their flesh and blood, as they are you with their soul and with their characteristics they contain you. Entirely. Your soul that once was separated from the universe. Then it was just for a moment that both joined again, for one moment everything has a meaning, everything is colorful.


Eros turned into a ghost taking the form of the futility within me. My heart bled for her who didn’t enchant Fate, who didn’t fool time, who didn’t breathe for us, who never breathed for me.
Then anger was replaced by conditioning and it sunk in the bottomless wells of my mind without light or guidance, without body, without a heart. And I waited like a vulture I yearned for her first mistake, I counted on her mistake, I counted on that mistake and I waited.


Every step we take in this garden becomes a long trip. Every word you whisper to me turns into a thousand questions and a thousand answers that I give you. Different pleats of us I unfold.
I retain the feeling of your embrace in this moment. I refuse to open my eyes, I categorically refuse it. I want to turn the darkness of my eyes into images of your soul that accompany me while among the ugliness of people, that the images may keep me in an oneiric magical world and thus enchanted by the far and away creative world that I crave for, that I shall survive, that I shall live, that I shall breathe, that I shall fall in love.


Whatever I had thought of, whatever I tried to retain hidden deep inside me she uncovered with a simple touch. But how? How can a touch of her hand suddenly reveal the emotions I had so well hidden?
Yet, she touches my eyes and I get hypnotized, she cuddles in my breast and sobs rise from my soul loaded with every kind of sin and miracle existing just there. And that kiss of hers that has the taste of lotus, a magical lotus made by her just for me.
I want to stay with her for just one more moment, one moment before the end.


I turn today into tomorrow. I want the now to become eternity. There are some moments that you suffocate me with your love, your needs and your dark thoughts. Yes, I feel struggled but I survive before your need to kill me and then to resurrect me.
Sometimes I die, I delay in coming back. I prefer to remain in the void floating as though I don’t want to burden the earth. I want to rise up high, there from where I see everything small, insignificant. Up there one doesn’t need to breathe. There is none to listen to you. Up there you only feel, you don’t see anything. You observe as though you are a floating shadow that came from nowhere. The world appears as though different. The people appear as though they are different.


Oh my heart you have gone mad and you search for an alibi, and you went mad by your paranoid ego and wished to erase everything you truly had?
I don’t want this moment, you hear me? I want moments of a whole life next to you with your aura caressing me with your eyes painting worlds for us with your laughter gifted to me only.


Oh my little one you never lost me, don’t prod me. I’m here next to you, perhaps inside you. Do not turn my loss into pain. Do not search where you don’t belong. Smile, smile at me, that smile which you have on your face when you feel secure, calm that everything is going well, that I am me near you. I smile back at you. How can I resist at this awesome expression on your face? I bestow, I send my adoration to your wind. I lean over you that I taste that smile that exists only for me!


I met her in the nowhere and like an outcast I picked the crumbles she left behind as she went by. I fed on them and nourished my aging soul that was lost in my many mistakes
and self centeredness as the war within me was built up like an ancient epic and the Furies kept on ripping the flesh of my heart slowly tyrannically.
Forgive me…I shout but no one hears me. Forgive me I can not stand before the Paradise door and leave at every dawn again and again. Forgive me I can not remain the thief of your moments, the lover of futility, the killer of your soul.


Fateful is this love…Fateful it has become for us both…I can not accept it. No, I won’t accept its borders. I stare deep in your eyes, oh, my God! How it hurts me, indeed how it hurts! Us two, my joy, we don’t just want each other we want to live for each other’s breath, that us two become one is not enough. That we both breathe the same air, that we taste the same food that we see the same images are not enough. To sleep one sleep, to wake up in one breath, to speak with one mouth, to exist in the same sunrise, in the same high noon, the same afternoon, the same sundown and in the same night to reach our contention. One is manifold everything walks to its terminus. The terminus…which one is for us both?


I am the wrong color in your life’s painting, leave…do not look back…leave before I steal your last breath that you may have none left that you have none for anybody else.
I met her at my nowhere, I even denied her for a moment, for a single moment that can turn anyone into a madman so that you may want to kill all that is there for you. Because passion has a price and I was born too timid to endure it.


I saw my entire life in one single moment of every voyage, of every long night. I enjoyed it in that moment, I hated it at another; I accept it in another. I welcomed it every time. In fear I faced it, carefully I treaded it, I wrestled it with stamina, it almost wasted me at one time. I got horrified by the people. I started hating them, I started feeling them, I touched them, I learned of myself in the process. Number of times I lost the battle other times I won it. I died and rose from the dead after the every day’s knife wound. At night I found refuge in my angels’ arms who of being here for you.
Who are you? Have you really existed?


Loneliness…Don’t they call you that? You are my mate after all. I hope you exist only for me. I hope you leave every body else alone. I hope you only exist for me. You grieve only me. I’ll monopolize you. I’ll claim you. I’ll do what you do. Never leave you from my eyes. I’ll trap you in my thoughts I’ll wait for you in every street corner. I’ll appear before you and I’ll wave to you ironically, I’ll fool you, I’ll play with you, I’ll try to make you see me as a burden. I’ll become your nightmare, your shadow, your death!
In the people’s emptiness loneliness creeps and fills their silence. With sighs it reminds them that they are alive.
‘Look, you hurt, you are not dead! Yearn and hope and feel’


Konstantina Sandali’s first novel with the title “Angels released me” was published by Iolkos in 2010. She is responsible for the books column of the Electronic Newspaper She collaborates with the painter Katerina Kanelakou.

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