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 By Dr Dimitri Karalis

The Persian poet Saadi once in his spiritual ecstasy, found himself walking among the burgeon gardens of Elysian Fields (paradise), brimming with exotic blooms and rare perfumed heavenly flowers.

He thought to gather a few in his apron for friends at home, but the exquisite fragrances intoxicated him so much that he dropped the apron together with the flowers.

Endeavouring to tell his friends of the wonderful sight and the rare aromatic scents of paradise on his return, he found it impossible, because the human tongue was too poor for such heavenly description.

The same can be said of love.

Attempting to define it, we arrive often at the same dilemma, as when we try to measure the sea with a drinking cup and counting the universe with a yardstick.

Love is too subtle to be defined in simple human terms. Yet an answer for its mysterious nature will be forever a longing in the human heart. What is love then someone might ask?

But there is no answer for such question.

You can feel love, you can sense love, you can look love, you can smile love, you can touch love, you can live love and you can breathe, BUT YOU CAN NEVER BE ABLE TO DESCRIBE LOVE. Love is God and God is indefinable. Love is not just affection; affections usually call for specific objects of endearment and vanish with the subject.

Affection is personal, changeable, and transient: While love is universal, steadfast, and eternal. Affection likes to be cherished, while love wants nothing but the privilege of loving. Affection twines itself most closely about human relations, while love finds its fruition beyond the human race.

Love is not just sympathy. Sympathy deplores, pities, or commiserates, but love understands. Love only to be understood, is the sweetest kind of sympathy treasured by the human Soul. The depth of love signifies always the success in our life.

Love your partner and your children and your success will be finally to supply their economic needs.

Love your country and its people and you will be lead into a government or civil position to serve them.

Love truth and knowledge and you will be incarnated to a spiritual torch in order to light the path of your fellow man.

Nothing in life moves forwards without the power of love. All the gates of paradise open only with the key of love. The enamoured couple, travel jointly with an escort of angels through the celestial gardens. Their love and happiness are the only ones that can freely pass through the gates of heaven. Love is the mighty voice of God who speaks through our mind heart and Soul.

“The reason for instance why some men fail to attract women, is that their bodies and minds, fail to express their SOUL- and your sweetheart needs your Soul first to respond. You satisfy the Soul of woman and all of her is yours, neglect or insult her Soul- and none of her are yours. You may complain that she is cold, artificial, uninteresting and the like. No, no that, you are little course and unfeeling, you do not understand the subtle emotion of women’s nature. Women feel more with their heart and understand young children’s innocence better than man’s coarse affection.”

Wise was Purintton when expressing what love really is.

  • Understand love, he said and you will solve the riddle of human existence.
  • Welcome love and you will open the arms of the angels.
  • Live love and you will have won the hearts of humanity.
  • Trust love and you will insure your life with the God.”

No one ever lived really yet without experiencing the glory of true love. Thousand times better wounded, bleeding and suffering from its arrows, than to live sound and ignorant from this divine grace.

Love, said Socrates in his ‘symposium speech’, is “the spiritual vehicle, which aims for soul travelling and everlasting immortality”.

What are the obstacles that do not allow love to bloom in every human heart? My experience taught me for the followings reasons.

  • Wrong upbringing, excess and
  • Wrong of food in the body and
  • Wrong thoughts stored in the brain are often the main obstacles to love spontaneously.

We eat what tradition customs taught us and we believe what superstition suggests us, as a result we are too sick physically and mentally to love.

It is impossible in uncongenial environment with alcohol, meat, tobacco, coffee and other harmful stimulants, to make pure blood for body’s metabolism.

Soul needs superb health, pure heart, open mind and clear windows (eyes) in order to express its inner glory.

Only with good health and correct upbringing can we learn to love.

  • Like it shines from the Sun,
  • Blossoms in the flowers,
  • Sings in the birds,
  • Sooths in silence,
  • Dreams in the stars and
  • Blushes angelically in the pomegranate colour of woman are loving cheeks”.

Dimitri Karalis
Hermanus -South Africa

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Ritsos_front large

Τώρα τά διπλώνω στά τέσσερα, στά οχτώ, στά δεκάξη

ν’ απασχολώ τά δάχτυλά μου. Καί τώρα θυμήθημα

πώς έτσι μετρούσα τή μουσική σάν πήγαινα στό Ωδείο

μέ μπλέ ποδιά κι άσπρο γιακά, μέ δυό ξανθές πλεξούδες

— 8, 16, 32, 64, —

κρατημένη απ’ τό χέρι μιάς μικρής φίλης μου ροδακινιάς όλο φώς

καί ρόζ λουλούδια,

(συχώρεσέ μου αυτά τά λόγια — κακή συνήθεια ) — 32, 64, — κ’ οι

δικοί μου στήριζαν

μεγάλες ελπίδες στό μουσικό μου τάλαντο. Λοιπόν, σούλεγα γιά

τήν πολυθρόνα —

ξεκοιλιασμένη — φαίνονται οι σκουριασμένες σούστες, τά άχερα —

έλεγα νά τήν πάω δίπλα στό επιπλοποιείο,

μά πού καιρός καί λεφτά καί διάθεση — τί νά πρωτοδιορθώσεις; —

έλεγα νά ρίξω ένα σεντόνι πάνω της, — φοβήθηκα

τ’ άσπρο σεντόνι σέ τέτοιο φεγγαρόφωτο. Εδώ κάθησαν

άνθρωποι πού ονειρεύτηκαν μεγάλα όνειρα, όπως κ’ εσύ κι όπως

κ’ εγώ άλλωστε,

καί τώρα ξεκουράζονται κάτω απ’ τό χώμα δίχως νά ενοχλούνται απ’ τήν

βροχή ή τό φεγγάρι.

Άφησέ με νάρθω μαζί σου.

Θα σταθούμε λιγάκι στήν κορφή τής μαρμάρινης σκάλας τού Άη – Νι

κόλα,

ύστερα εσύ θά κατηφορίσεις κ’ εγώ θά γυρίσω πίσω

έχοντας στ’ αριστερό πλευρό μου τή ζέστα απ’ τό τυχαίο άγγιγμα τού

σακκακιoύ σου

κι ακόμη μερικά τετράγωνα φώτα από μικρά συνοικιακά παράθυρα

κι αυτή τήν πάλλευκη άχνα απ’ το φεγγάρι πούναι σάν μια μεγάλη συνο-

δεία ασημένιων κύκνων —

καί δέ φοβάμαι αυτή τήν έκφραση, γιατί εγώ

πολλές ανοιξιάτικες νύχτες συνομίλησα άλλοτε μέ τό Θεό πού μού

εμφανίστηκε

ντυμένος τήν αχλύ καί τή δόξα ενός τέτοιου σεληνόφωτος,

καί πολλούς νέους, πιό ωραίους κι από σένα ακόμη, τού εθυσίασα,

έτσι λευκή κι απρόσιτη ν’ ατμίζομαι μές στή λευκή μου φλόγα, στή λευ-

κότητα τού σεληνόφωτος,

πυρπολημένα απ’ τ’ αδηφάγα μάτια των αντρών κι απ’ τή δισταχτικήν

έκσταση των εφήβων,

πολιορκημένα από εξαίσια, ηλιοκαμένα σώματα,

άλκιμα μέλη γυμνασμένα στό κολύμπι, στό κουπί, στό στίβο, στό ποδό-

σφαιρο ( πού έκανα πώς δέν τάβλεπα )

μέτωπα, χείλη καί λαιμοί, δάχτυλα καί μάτια,

στέρνα καί μπράτσα καί μηροί ( κι αλήθεια δέν τάβλεπα )

—ξέρεις, καμμιά φορά, θαυμάζοντας, ξεχνάς, ό,τι θαυμάζεις, σού φτάνει

ο θαυμασμός σου, —

θέ μου, τί μάτια πάναστρα, κι ανυψωνόμουν σέ μιάν αποθέωση αρνημέ-

ων άστρων

γιατί, έτσι πολιοκρημένη απ’ έξω κι από μέσα,

άλλος δρόμος δέ μούμενε παρά μονάχα πρός τά πάνω ή πρός τά κάτω.

—    Όχι, δέ φτάνει.

Άφησέ με νάρθω μαζί σου.

Now I fold them in four in eight in sixteen

to keep my fingers busy And now I remember

that’s how I kept the beat in music long ago at

Music School with a blue uniform and white collar with

two blond braids – eight sixteen thirty-two sixty-four

held by the hand of a small peach tree a friend of mine

full of light and rosy flowers

(forgive me for these words – bad habit) – 32 – 64 – and

my family had

so many hopes for my music talent So I was saying to you

about the armchair –

disemboweled – the rusted springs are visible the straw –

I thought of taking it to the furniture shop next door

but who has the time the money and desire – what can you

fix first? – I thought of throwing a sheet on it – but I was afraid

of the white sheet in this moonlight Here sat

people who dreamed great dreams like you and like me

and now they rest under the earth without being disturbed by

rain or moon

Let me come with you

We shall stop for a while at the top of the marble stairs

of Saint Nicolas

then you will go down the road and I’ll return

having on my left side the warmth from touching your coat

by chance

and even some square lights from the small neighborhood

windows

and this snow white vapor from the moon that resembles a big

procession of silver swans –

and I don’t fear this expression because during

many spring nights I talked to God who appeared to me

dressed in the haze and glory of moonlight such as this

and I sacrificed to Him many young men even more handsome

than you

thus white and unreachable I became vapor in my white flame

in the whiteness of moonlight

conflagrated by the insatiable eyes of men and by the hesitant

ecstasy of ephebes

besieged by graceful sunburned bodies

vigorous limbs trained in swimming in oaring in gymnastics

and football (though I pretended I didn’t notice)

foreheads lips and necks knees fingers and eyes

chests and arms and thighs (and truly I didn’t notice them)

– you know sometimes in admiring you forget what you

admire your admiration is enough –

my god what eyes filled with stars and I rose in an apotheosis

of denied stars

because besieged as I was from outside and from within

I had no other path but only upward or downward

– no it’s not enough

Let me come with you.

Paradise

Posted: 31/01/2012 by vequinox in Uncategorized
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Paradise

Montage produced in Greece for the painter Giannis Stratis, complimented with poetry from my book VORTEX

Τούτο τό σπίτι στοίχειωσε, μέ διώχνει—

θέλω νά πώ έχει παλιώσει πολύ, τά καρφιά ξεκολλάνε,

τά κάδρα ρίχνονται σά νά βουτάνε στό κενό,

οι σουβάδες πέφτουν αθόρυβα

όπως πέφτει τό καπέλο τού πεθαμένου απ’τήν κρεμάστρα

στό σκοτεινό διάδρομο

όπως πέφτει τό μάλλινο τριμένο γάντι τής σιωπής απ’ τά γόνατά της

ή όπως πέφτει μιά λουρίδα φεγγάρι στήν παλιά, ξεκοιλιασμένη πολυθρόνα.

Κάποτε υπήρξε νέα κι αυτή, — όχι η φωτογραφία πού κοιτάς με

τόση δυσπιστία—

λέω γιά τήν πολυθρόνα, πολύ αναπαυτική, μπορούσες ώρες ολόκληρες

νά κάθεσαι

καί μέ κλεισμένα μάτια νά ονειρεύεσαι ό,τι τύχει

—μιάν αμμουδιά στρωτή, νοτισμένη, στιλβωμένη από φεγγάρι,

πιό στιλβωμένη απ’ τά παλιά λουστρίνια μου πού κάθε μήνα τα δίνω

στό στιλβωτήριο τής γωνιάς,

ή ένα πανί ψαρόβαρκας πού χάνεται στό βάθος λικνισμένο απ’ τήν

ίδια του ανάσα,

τριγωνικό πανί σά μαντίλι διπλωμένο λοξά μόνο στά δυό

σά νά μήν είχε τίποτα να κλείσει ή νά κρατήσει

ή ν’ ανεμίσει διάπλατο σέ αποχαιρετισμό. Πάντα μου είχα μανία

μέ τά μαντίλια,

όχι γιά νά κρατήσω τίποτα δεμένο,

τίποτα σπόρους λουλουδιών ή χαμομήλι μαζεμένο στούς αγρούς

μέ τό λιόγερμα

ή νά δέσω τέσσερις κόμπους σάν τό σκουφί πού φοράνε οι εργάτες

στ’ αντικρυνό γιαπί

ή νά σκουπίσω τά μάτια μου, — διατήρησα καλή τήν όρασή μου

ποτέ μου δέ φόρεσα γυαλιά. Μιά απλή ιδιοτροπία τά μαντίλια.

~Γιάνης Ρίτσος 

 

MOONLIGHT SONATA (Second Piece)

 

This house is haunted it pushes me away –

I mean it has aged so much the nails fall off

the pictures fall as if diving to the void

the stucco bits drop silently

like the hat of the dead man off its hanger

in the dark hallway

like the worn-out wool glove of silence falls off her knees

or a band of moonlight falls on the old worn-out armchair

 

Once even that was new – not the picture you

stare at with such disbelief –

I mean the armchair so comfortable you could

sit for hours

and with closed eyes dream of anything

– a smooth sandy beach wet and polished by the moon

more polished than my old leather shoes that every month I polish

at the corner shoe store

or a fishing boat’s sail that vanishes in the horizon rocked

by its own breath

triangular sail like a handkerchief folded on an angle only twice

as though it didn’t have anything to cover or to keep

or to wave unfurled like saying goodbye I always had a fixation

with handkerchiefs

not for keeping anything tied in them

like some flower seed or chamomile gathered in the fields

at sundown

or to tie it in four knots like the cap workers wear

in the opposite construction site

or to wipe my eyes – I maintained my vision properly

I never wore glasses. Just a simple fixation with handkerchiefs.

 

~Yannis Ritsos