Κωστή Παλαμά-Ασάλευτη Ζωή/Kostis Palamas-Motionless Life

Ἡ ἀσάλευτη ζωή

Καὶ τ᾿ ἄγαλμα ἀγωνίστηκα γιὰ τὸ ναὸ νὰ πλάσω
στὴν πέτρα τὴ δική μου ἀπάνω,
καὶ νὰ τὸ στήσω ὁλόγυμνο, καὶ νὰ περάσω,
καὶ νὰ περάσω, δίχως νὰ πεθάνω.

καὶ τό ῾πλασα. Κ᾿ οἱ ἄνθρωποι, στενοὶ προσκυνητάδες
στὰ ξόανα τ᾿ ἄπλαστα μπροστὰ καὶ τὰ κακοντυμένα,
θυμοῦ γρικῆσαν τίναγμα καὶ φόβου ἀνατριχάδες,
κ᾿ εἴδανε σὰν ἀντίμαχους καὶ τ᾿ ἄγαλμα κ᾿ ἐμένα.

Καὶ τ᾿ ἄγαλμα στὰ κύμβαλα, κ᾿ ἐμὲ στὴν ἐξορία.
Καὶ πρὸς τὰ ξένα τράβηξα τὸ γοργοπέρασμά μου
καὶ πρὶν τραβήξω, πρόσφερα παράξενη θυσία
ἔσκαψα λάκκο, κ᾿ ἔθαψα στὸ λάκκο τ᾿ ἄγαλμά μου.

Καὶ τοῦ ψιθύρησα: «Ἄφαντο βυθίσου αὐτοῦ καὶ ζῆσε
μὲ τὰ βαθιὰ ριζώματα καὶ μὲ τ᾿ ἀρχαῖα συντρίμμια,
ὅσο ποὺ νἄρθ᾿ ἡ ὥρα σου, ἀθάνατ᾿ ἄνθος εἶσαι,
ναὸς νὰ ντύση καρτερεῖ τὴ θεία δική σου γύμνια!»

Καὶ μ᾿ ἕνα στόμα διάπλατο, καὶ μὲ φωνὴ προφήτη,
μίλησ᾿ ὁ λάκκος: «Ναὸς κανείς, βάθρο οὔτε, φῶς, τοῦ κάκου.
Γιὰ δῶ, γιὰ κεῖ, γιὰ πουθενὰ τὸ ἄνθος σου, ὦ τεχνίτη!
Κάλλιο γιὰ πάντα νὰ χαθῆ μέσ᾿ στ᾿ ἄψαχτα ἑνὸς λάκκου.

Ποτὲ μὴν ἔρθ᾿ ἡ ὥρα του! Κι ἂν ἔρθη κι ἂν προβάλη,
μεστὸς θὰ λάμπη καὶ ὁ ναὸς ἀπὸ λαὸ ἀγαλμάτων,
τ᾿ ἀγάλματα ἀψεγάδιαστα, κ᾿ οἱ πλάστες τρισμεγάλοι
γύρνα ξανά, βρυκόλακα, στὴ νύχτα τῶν μνημάτων!

Τὸ σήμερα εἴτανε νωρίς, τ᾿ αὔριο ἀργὰ θὰ εἶναι,
δὲ θὰ σοῦ στρέξη τ᾿ ὄνειρο, δὲ θάρθ᾿ ἡ αὐγὴ ποὺ θέλεις,
μὲ τὸν καημὸ τ᾿ ἀθανάτου ποὺ δὲν τὸ φτάνεις, μεῖνε,
κυνηγητὴς τοῦ σύγγνεφου, τοῦ ἴσκιου Πραξιτέλης.

Τὰ τωρινὰ καὶ τ᾿ αὐριανά, βρόχοι καὶ πέλαγα, ὅλα
σύνεργα τοῦ πνιγμοῦ γιὰ σὲ καὶ ὁράματα τῆς πλάνης
μακρότερη ἀπ᾿ τὴ δόξα σου καὶ μία τοῦ κήπου βιόλα
καὶ θὰ περάσης, μάθε το, καὶ θὰ πεθάνης!»

Κ᾿ ἐγὼ ἀποκρίθηκα: «Ἂς περάσω κι ἂς πεθάνω!
Πλάστης κ᾿ ἐγὼ μ᾿ ὅλο τὸ νοῦ καὶ μ᾿ ὅλη τὴν καρδιά μου
λάκκος κι ἂς φάῃ τὸ πλάσμα μου, ἀπὸ τ᾿ ἀθάνατα ὅλα
μπορεῖ ν᾿ ἀξίζει πιὸ πολὺ τὸ γοργοπέρασμά μου».

Motionless Life

And for the temple I struggled to create

a statue on this rock: my body,

to place it naked, and to spend my life

and to spend my life and never die

and I created it. And people, latest worshipers

before the badly dressed wooden statues

felt the thrill of anger and the shiver of fear

and saw the statue and I as combatants.

And they thrashed the statue and sent me to exile.

And to the foreign lands I led my steps

yet before it I offered a strange sacrifice

a grave I dug and deep into it I buried my statue.

And I whispered to it: “unseen spend your days

along with the roots and ancient ruins,

until your time comes, invincible flower that you are

the temple longs to dress your godly nakedness!”

And with its wide open mouth and with the voice of a prophet

the grave spoke: “No temple, nor podium, nor light, a waste.

For here, for there, nowhere your flower, oh, master craftsman!

Let it for ever vanish in the un-rummaged hole.

Let it never have its time! Yet if it appears

let the temple shine filled by the people’s statues

immaculate the statues and the all-great sculptors

come back, Oh phantasm, during the night of the tombs!

Today’s day came early, tomorrow’s will be late

the dream won’t rescue you, the dawn you wish will never come

with the longing of immortality you can’t reach, stay,

a hunter of the cloud, the Praxiteles of the shadow.

The present and tomorrow’s things, snares and seas, all

tools and tricky visions you drawn into

farther from your glory, single violet of the garden

and you will wither, understand it, and you will die.”

And I answered: “Let me wither and let me die!

Creator I also am with my mind and all my heart

let the tomb consume my flesh, my fast passing through

perhaps is worthy more than all these immortal.”

Κωστή Παλαμά-Ασάλευτη Ζωή/Kostis Palamas-Motionless Life

Translated by Manolis Aligizakis