Archive for 29/07/2021

George Seferis-Collected Poems

Posted: 29/07/2021 by vequinox in Literature

GEORGE SEFERIS-COLLECTED POEMS

ΕΠΙ ΣΚΗΝΗΣ//ON STAGE

ΙΙ

Σήμαντρα ακούστηκαν

κι ήρθαν οι μαντατοφόροι.

Δεν τους περίμενα

λησμονημένη η λαλιά τους,

ξεκούραστοι, φρεσκοντυμένοι

κρατώντας κάνιστρα τους καρπούς.

Θαύμασα και ψυθίρισα:

«Μ’ αρέσουν τ’ αμφιθέατρα»

Η αχιβάδα γέμισε αμέσως

και χαμήλωσε τη φως στη σκηνή

όπως για κάποιο περιώνυμο φονικό.

2

Gongs were heard

and messengers came;

I didn’t expect them

and their voices forgotten;

rested, freshly attired

holding baskets of fruit.

I admired and whispered:

‘I like these amphitheaters.’

The conch was at once filled

and on stage the light was dimmed

as though for some very famous murder.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems

Posted: 29/07/2021 by vequinox in Literature

 ΚΙ ΙΣΩΣ αυτό, που ποτέ δεν καταλάβαμε, ήταν ότι έμεινε για

      πάντοτε δικό μας,

γιατί ποιος κέρδισα ποτέ τη νύχτα ή τ’ όνειρο, και μες στο σπίτι ο

      ένας με τον άλλον

ένα απλό κειμήλιο είμαστε, και μόνος του καθένας θα πεθάνει,

έτσι μέσα στο ανήσυχο βράδυ, αλλόκοτα φωτισμένο απ’ τους

      πυρσούς,

είμαστε πάντοτε απροετοίμαστοι. Κι ήταν αυτή η συγκομιδή μας.

AND PERHAPS what we never understood was the only

     thing left to us

because who could ever win the night or the dream and inside

     the house one for the other

we were simply a heirloom and each of us will die

plainly in the disturbed evening, in a strange way lit by

     the torches

we were always unprepared. And this was our harvest.

Swampled, a novel, by Manolis Aligizakis

Posted: 29/07/2021 by vequinox in Literature

SWAMPED, a novel by Manolis Aligizakis

(Excerpt)

He returned to planning the coming day. He would have to fit in a meeting with Richard Walden, the stock promoter of Golden Veins, a company Eteo had financed about a year ago. He had purchased a million shares of Golden Veins, an oil startup in Saskatchewan with good prospects, heavy oil but in a good location where several other small producers were located. What made it different was that, besides the ground, this small company had a new technology that a group of engineers in Vancouver had been promoting. They had invented a new sensing apparatus which, they claimed, could find oil in the ground just by driving their car over the property. That had attracted plenty of attention, but Richard Walden had somehow gotten the exclusive use of it, presumably by promising the engineers a good chunk of money if the machine proved itself in the field. The end result was that Golden Veins fed the hungry engineers for a while in return for having the first right of using their exclusive technology on the company’s prospect in Saskatchewan. What had impressed Eteo the most was a comment Richard had made when they had met for the first time year and a half ago. When Eteo asked what the promoter’s goals were, he had replied, “All of it, the estate, the yacht, the works!”

Eteo’s restless mind ran back to his parents again. He hadn’t talked to them for a couple of weeks now, and the thought made him feel sad. The flow of his everyday life forced him to neglect calling them as often as he wanted. He felt unable to help his parents as much as he should from this far side of the globe where he had chosen to emigrate. What had made him go this far away from them? He had always wanted to leave his poor homeland and the dismal chances of success in it after his graduation, but why had he come this far? Was it only because Paul Nikolitch, the guy at the Canadian Embassy, had advised him to go to Vancouver? Eteo had done that without thinking that someday his parents would grow old. He had never imagined how miserable he would feel when he was so far away and they needed him the most. But back then Eteo had only been twenty-six, and he thought he would only stay in Canada for two years. Everybody emigrated for that length of time. They all left their motherland for two years but most ended up staying away for a lifetime.

What was wrong with him, still awake at this ungodly hour of the morning?  He lay in bed with open eyes, but it was too early to get up. Perhaps Eteo was just a man difficult to be with. Perhaps he was the problem. Perhaps the reason his wife left him had been exactly that: it was simply too hard for anyone to be with him. No, Eteo was an easygoing guy who could adapt to anything, who could be happy with anything. Didn’t he put up with his ex-wife going away on her own to India so many times? Who else could have done that without going ballistic and swearing from left to right and from north to south?

As if to cheer him up, a light breeze swayed the curtains into a slow tango. Was it to lead his mind to rest? Perhaps after all he could go to sleep for a while, at least until the morning star called from the eastern horizon. But sleep wasn’t in the cards, and Eteo decided to get up. He put on his robe, walked down to the kitchen and got the coffee going, and soon the aroma of brewing coffee woke him up completely. He filled his mug half way with milk and topped it up with coffee. He added his sugar and stirred it well, then walked to the family room and sat down in his armchair. The aroma of the coffee was delicious, and he took a couple of good sips of the fluid, savoring the taste. His eyes went to the door that led to the deck and he got up and pulled the blinds, allowing some of the early morning light to flood the room. His house faced west but the family room was on the other side of the house and looked east. The world was waking up in the part of the globe where Eteo lived.

Βίκυ Παπαπροδρόμου: ό,τι πολύ αγάπησα (ποίηση, πεζογραφία & μουσική)

Τα έντυπα

Έπεσα σχεδόν επάνω τους,
άνοιγαν, έκλειναν πόρτες,
μετέφεραν τ’ απαραίτητα
για μια σύντομη διαμονή στην εξοχή∙
κάπως ανήσυχοι για την πυκνή κίνηση
που εμπόδιζε την έξοδο
προσπάθησαν να διαβάσουν στα κλεφτά
την εφημερίδα που κρατούσα,
μισογελώντας μου πέταξαν διάφορα έντυπα,
ζωγραφιές και σχέδια,
να τους πω τη γνώμη μου
πριν αρχίσει η εντατική μελέτη,
εκείνα τα σβήσε εδώ και γράψε εκεί∙
όντα ερωτικά, παθιασμένα,
ξετρελαμένα ο ένας με τον άλλο,
δυο ομορφόπαιδα μ’ ανάγλυφη καλλονή
—ένας άνδρας και μια γυναίκα,
ίσως αυτή να ήταν η γνώμη μου
καθώς τους είδα να εξαφανίζονται
μ’ ένα συνηθισμένο,
μ’ ένα τρισάθλιο αμάξι
που έτριζε στην ανηφόρα.

Από τη συλλογή Ανοικτή γραμμή (1984) της Αλεξάνδρας Μπακονίκα

Οι ποιητές της Θεσσαλονίκης τον 20ό αιώνα και ως σήμερα (ανθολογία) / Αλεξάνδρα Μπακονίκα

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Ενύπνια Ψιχίων

—Τι βλέπεις; Eίπε ψιθυριστά η Φρόνυ.

Κοίταξα και τους είδα. Ύστερα κοίταξα και έβλεπα την Κάντυ με άνθη στα μαλλιά και έναν πέπλο μακρύ σαν άνεμο αστραφτερό. Κάντυ Κάντυ

—Σουτ. Είπε ο Τ. Π. Θα σ’ ακούσουνε. Κατέβα κάτω σβέλτα. Και με τραβούσε. Κάντυ. Ο Τ.Π. με τραβούσε. Σουτ. Είπε. Σώπα. Έλα δω αμέσως. Και με τραβούσε. Κάντυ. Πάψε Μπέντζυ. Θέλεις να σ’ ακούσουν; Άντε, στάσου να πιούμε καμιά γουλιά ακόμη και μετά ξαναγυρίζουμε, αν το βουλώσεις. Πάμε καλύτερα να πάρουμε άλλο ένα μπουκάλι, ειδαλλιώς θ’ αρχίσουμε να σκούζουμε και οι δυο μας. Θα πούμε το ήπιε ο Νταν. Ο Κύριος Κουέντιν πάντα του λέει είναι ξύπνιο σκυλί, εμείς μπορούμε να πούμε ξέρετε είναι μπεκρόσκυλο, πίνει.

Η φεγγαράδα κατέβαινε τα σκαλιά του υπογείου. Ήπιαμε κι άλλο. — Ξέρεις τι θα ήθελα τώρα; Θα ’θελα ξαφνικά να μπουκάρει εδώ στο κατώι μια αρκούδα. Και ξέρεις τι θα ’κανα; Θα πήγαινα ίσα…

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