Archive for 04/08/2022

POEM BY TASOS LIVADITIS

Ο ΤΡΙΤΟΣ

      Τότε ήρθε κι ο άλλος, κρατούσε μια παλιά φθαρμένη βαλίτσα,

όπου έκρυβε τα φαντάσματα της ζωής του, για να μην κάνουν τον

κόπο να τον κυνηγούν,

      ήμασταν στο ίδιο πνιγηρό δωμάτιο, και το μεγάλο ζώο που ήταν

ζωγραφισμένο στο χαλί μας έτρωγε κιόλας τα γόνατα,

     “μητέρα, ρώτησα κάποτε, πού μπορούμε να βρούμε λίγο νερό για

τ’ άλογό μου;”, “μα δε βλέπω κανένα άλογο”, “κι εσύ μητέρα!”,

      μια σειρά κεριά ήταν κι απ’ τίς δυο μεριές του διαδρόμου, και

στο βάθος το σκοτεινό μαγαζί που πουλούσε παλιά μουσικά όργανα

κρεμασμένα απ’ το ταβάνι, σαν τους φτωχούς, και στη μέση ο

παλαιοπώλης, γέρος και βρόμικος, κούρντιζε πάνω στα γόνατά του

το πεθαμένο χέρι, “μας γέλασαν, φώναξα, μας έδωσαν άλλο σπίτι”,

μα δέν υπήρχε κανείς γύρω, μονάχα μια φουρκέτα κάτω στις

πλάκες σαν ένα μικρό έντομο, που μόλις έκανα να την αγγίξω

πέταξε και χάθηκε απ’ το παράθυρο.

      Κι όλη τη νύχτα ακούγαμε τους σιδεράδες που ετοιμάζαν τα

καρφιά, σαν να υπήρχε κάποιος Ιησούς ανάμεσα στους τρείς μας.

THE THIRD MAN

      Then the other one came; he carried an old ravished valise

in which he hid all the ghosts of his life that they never needed

chase after him

      we were in the same stuffy room and the large animal sewn

on the carpet was already biting our knees

     “mother” I asked at some-time “where can we find some water for

my horse?”, “but I don’t see any horse”, “you too, mother!”

      a line of candles was on both sides of the hallway and at

the far end the store that sold old music instruments that hanged

from the ceiling like the destitute and in the middle the merchant

old and dirty; on his knee he would wound up the dead arm

“they fooled us” I cried “they gave us a different house”

but no-one was around, only one hairpin on the tiles like

a small insect that as I tried to touch it, it flew and vanished

through the window.

      And all night long we heard the blacksmiths who prepared

the nails as if there was one Christ amongst the three of us.

Swamped, a novel by Manolis Aligizakis

Posted: 04/08/2022 by vequinox in Literature

Eteocles and Nicolas walk around the house. There are lots of stones on the ground, mostly flat ones, but spread all over the small yard around this strange house with its sheet metal roof where the rain played a strange game during the night, a game Eteocles had never heard before. He bends down to the ground, takes

one stone and throws it toward the edge of the lot. His brother starts doing the same and, stone by stone, in an hour of work they have cleaned the lot of its flat stones, which are now piled by the edge of the yard. Now they can play freely around the house. They can even practice their football skills, but since they don’t know anyone in the neighborhood yet, or any other place where they can play, it will be as good as it can be under the circumstances. They don’t even have a soccer ball yet, but they hope their dad will find some money to buy them a proper ball made of rubber and already inflated.

Nicolas spots a stone they missed while clearing the lot. Quickly he grabs it and throws it toward the edge of the yard, but Fate has put Eteocles in the path of the thrown stone and it hits him on the head. The younger boy feels a sharp pain on the left side of his head and his hand instinctively reaches for the spot only to discover his own warm blood. He presses his hand against the wound as Nicolas rushes to take him inside where their mother is still arranging their things in her new home. She wraps a clean handkerchief around Eteocles’s head and tells him to press hard against the wound. It only takes a couple of minutes for the bleeding to stop. Then she looks sternly at Nicolas and asks, “Didn’t you remember what I said to you? You’re older. You have to take care of your brother. You have to take care of him!” Nicolas bows his head. “I know, Mom. I remember.” A single tear trickles down his cheek. Eteocles cries too and hugs his brother. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he repeats, and taking his brother’s hand, he leads him outside to play again.

A few days later after the two brothers start going to the closest school, Eteocles in grade two and Nicolas in grade four. It doesn’t take them long to gang up with other kids, but because they are newcomers, some of the other children start picking on Eteocles, choosing him because he is the smaller of the two. Sometimes they push him against a wall or block him from going down the stairs before others. Sometimes they try to intimidate him with threats. This goes on until Nicolas discovers what is happening, and after he finds out who the ringleader is, he rewards him with a few good punches on the stomach and head. These make the third grader start howling, and Nicolas ends up in the principal’s office and is suspended from school for two days. It’s his first suspension, but more will follow as the days and years go by.   

Within only a couple of weeks, the two brothers have done all their exploration of the immediate area, made new friends in the neighborhood, and become familiar with all the surroundings. They like their new neighbourhood, but especially the water pump they call touloumpa. Eteocles loves to work its lever and draw water from the depths of the earth. He loves the freshness of the cool well water and with some practice gets good at working the lever with one arm while drinking the refreshing water out of the palm of his other hand. Another favorite spot is by the two big trees about a hundred meters from their house where all the boys and girls of the neighborhood play their favorite characters,Tarzan and Jane, Gaour, and Tatambou, and all the other heroes, the detectives, the resistance fighters during the German occupation, all the daring characters they know so well from their comic books.

Every Sunday afternoon their parents take the boys down to the promenade by the Gulf of Salonica where they walk from west to east, usually stopping near the White Tower where their dad buys them ice cream during the hot summer days or roasted chestnuts during the cold days of autumn and winter. This is the only entertainment they can afford, but the boys love it every time, even if the scenery is always the same and the long walk tires them out especially on the uphill walk back to their suburb of Sikies.

To Koskino

Theory of Colours by Bella Li
Vagabond Press, 2021

Bella Li’s hybrid poetics of text and image are instantly recognisable. Her third collection Theory of Colours follows on structurally and stylistically from her well-received earlier works: Argosy (2017, Vagabond Books) and Lost Lake (2018, Vagabond Books). Here, as with her previous collections, alchemical concoctions of form and genre blend source materials into sequences with a commitment to the surreal and uncanny. Theory of Colours extends this eclectic approach into what is arguably the most thematically cohesive collection Li has published thus far, delicately threading abstraction and narrative immersion. It is a meticulous book-object, with her attention to detail extending even to the design of the cover and internal typesetting.

The collection’s title is borrowed from poet and polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s 1810 treatise. Goethe’s Theory of Colours is a renowned historical oddity: part challenge of Isaac Newton’s physical theory…

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Daily Dose of Bhagwad Gita

Posted: 04/08/2022 by vequinox in Literature

Be Inspired..!!

Quotes on Gita :‘If one reads Bhagavad-Gita very sincerely and with all seriousness, then by the grace of the Lord the reactions of his past misdeeds will not act upon him’Lord Shiva to Parvatidevi, Gita-Mahatmya.

No other philosophical or religious work reveals ,in such a lucid and profound way, the nature of consciousness, the self, the universe and the Supreme. I will shall read (Youtube Link Attached) and write Gita verses from the book “Bhagvan-Gita As It Is” by Swami Prabhupada everyday.

Bhagavad Gita – Chapter 1- Verse 44-46

Chapter 1 – Observing the Armies on the Battlefield of Kuruksetra

Text 44 – Alas, how strange it is that we are preparing to commit greatly sinful acts. Driven by the desire to enjoy royal happiness, we are intent on killing our own kinsmen.

Purport – Driven by selfish motives, one may be inclined to such sinful acts as…

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