Archive for March, 2019



Κείνες τις μέρες έβρεχε ασταμάτητα. Κατέβαζε πολύ νερό.

Το ποτάμι πλημμύρισε. Δε φαινόταν η γέφυρα.

Κόσμος καθόταν στις όχτες. Περίμεναν. Η βροχή δε σταμάταγε.

Κάποιοι πετούσαν τα βρακιά τους, τα παπούτσια τους, για να

περάσουν το ποτάμι.

Ύστερα μέναν έτσι. Δέν περνούσαν. Κάθονταν στη βροχή γυμνοί

ώσπου νύχτωνε και δεν ξέραμε πια: έμειναν τάχα εκεί; περάσαν

το ποτάμι; πνίγηκαν;


Την άλλη μέρα είχε λιακάδα. Το ποτάμι χαμήλωνε.

Ο έρωτας περνοδιάβαινε στο γεφύρι παίζοντας με τα φύλλα

και πια κανένας δε θυμόταν τα κατορθώματα κείνων που πά-

λεψαν με το νερό

ούτε τα κλάματα κείνων που τους χώρισε το ποτάμι

ούτε κείνους που πνίγηκαν στη νύχτα.


Ένα παπούτσι αρμένιζε ήσυχα μες στο ποτάμι

σα βάρκα ενός πουλιού μες στα παιχνίδια τού νερού και του ήλιου.




Those days it rained unceasingly. Torrential rain.

The river flooded. You couldn’t see the bridge.

People stood by the banks. They waited. The rain wouldn’t stop.

Some did away with their underpants and shoes so they

could cross the river.

Then they stayed like that. They didn’t cross. They stayed in the rain

naked until night came and we didn’t know further: did they stay

there? Did they cross? Did they drown?


The next day it was sunny. The river had receded.

Eros went back and forth on the bridge playing with the leaves

and no one remembered anymore the deeds of the ones who fought

the water

neither the cries of those who the river separated

nor those who drowned during the night.


One shoe sailed calmly on the river

like a boat of a bird amid the games of the water and the sun.


~Γιάννη Ρίτσου-ποιήματα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη

~Yannis Ritsos-Poems/translated by Manolis Aligizakis

Interesting Literature

A critical reading of a classic poem

‘A Poison Tree’, one of the most famous poems by William Blake (1757-1827), was first published in Blake’s 1794 volume Songs of Experience. Below we offer some words of analysis on this classic poem.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears.
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles.
And with soft deceitful wiles.

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Telesilla: Argive Woman, Warrior Poet

Posted: 30/03/2019 by vequinox in Literature


From Pausanias,  2.20.8-10

“Beyond the theater is the shrine of Aphrodite. In front of the foundation is a stele on which Telesilla, a poet of lyric, is depicted. Her books are tossed near her feet while she looks at the helmet she holds in her hand as she is about to put it on her head. Telesilla was famous among women and especially honored for her poetry.

But a greater story about her comes from when the Argives were bested by Kleomenes the son of Alexandrides and the Lakedaimonians. Some Argives died during the battle itself and however many fled to the grove of Ares died there too—at first they left the grove under an armistice but they realized they were deceived and were burned with the rest in the grove. As a result, Kleomenes led the Spartans to an Argos bereft of men.

But Telesilla stationed on the wall…

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Roaming Travelers

Fantastic Grotto of Hercules near Tangier, Morocco

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Παιδείας Εγκώμιον

Το να περπατάς με ένα φίλο στο σκοτάδι είναι καλύτερο από το να περπατάς μόνος στο φως.

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