Posts Tagged ‘courage’

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ΑΝΑΜΕΣΑ ΣΤΑ ΚΟΚΑΛΑ ΕΔΩ

Ανάμεσα στα κόκαλα

μια μουσική

περνάει στην άμμο

περνάει στη θάλασσα.

Ανάμεσα στα κόκαλα

ήχος φλογέρας

ήχος τυμπάνου απόμακρος

κι ένα ψιλό κουδούνισμα

περνάει τους κάμπους τους στεγνούς

περνάει τη θάλασσα με τα δελφίνια.

Ψηλά βουνά, δε μας ακούτε.

Βοήθεια, βοήθεια!

Ψηλά βουνά θα λιώσουμε, νεκροί

με τους νεκρούς.

 

 

HERE AMONG THE BONES

 

Among the bones

some music

goes by the sand

goes over the sea.

Among the bones

sound of a flute

sound of a distant drum

and a light ringing,

goes over the dry plains

over the sea with the dolphins.

High mountains, you can’t hear us!

Help! Help!

High mountains, we’ll dissolve, dead

with the dead!

 

ΤΟ ΑΓΝΩΣΤΟ

Ήξερε τί παράσταιναν οι διαδοχικές του μεταμφιέσεις
(συχνά κι αυτές αναχρονιστικές και πάντα αόριστες)
τον ξιφομάχο, τον κήρυκα, τον ιερέα, τον σκοινοβάτη,
τον ήρωα, το θύμα, τον νεκρό, την Ιφιγένεια. Δεν ήξερε
εκείνον που μεταμφιεζόταν. Τα πολύχρωμα κοστούμια του
σωρός στο πάτωμα, καλύπτοντας την τρύπα του πατώματος,
και στην κορφή του σωρού το λαξευμένο, χρυσό προσωπείο,
και μες στο κούφωμα του προσωπείου το αχρησιμοποίητο πιστόλι.

THE UNKNOWN

He knew what his successive disguises stood for
(even them often out of time and always vague)
a fencer, a herald, a priest, a rope walker,
a hero, a victim, a dead, Iphigenia. He didn’t know
the one he disguised himself as. His colorful costumes
pile on the floor, covering the hole of the floor,
and on top of the pile the carved golden mask,
and in the cavity of the mask the unfired pistol.
ΤΟ ΑΔΙΕΞΟΔΟ

Με το φθινόπωρο ακούσαμε ξανά κάτω απ’ τις καμάρες
το κέρας των αρχαίων κυνηγών. Ο ραβδοσκόπος καθόταν στην
πόρτα.
Μπροστά στο Διοικητήριο έκαιγαν τους χαρταητούς. Λίγο πιο πέρα,
μονάχο το άγαλμα, γυμνό, τρέμοντας όλο πάνω στο βάθρο του,
(αυτό που τόσα είχα τραβήξει ώσπου να γίνει άγαλμα), αυτό,
ολότελα πια λησμονημένο, μελετούσε κρυφά, μέσα στην πέτρα,
ένα καινούργιο, εκπληχτικό διασκελισμό, που να επισύρει
την προσοχή των κυνηγών, του κρεοπώλη, του φούρναρη, της χήρας,
διαψεύδοντας ό,τι περσότερο είχε ονειρευτεί: την άσπιλη εκείνη,
την ένδοξή του, τη μαρμάρινη, την αναπαυτικά εσταυρωμένη ακι-
νησία.
DEAD END

In the fall we heard the ancient hunters’ horns
blare under the arches. The dowser
sat by the door.
In front of Government House they burned kites. Farther on
the statue was alone, naked, completely shivering on its pedestal,
(the one that had endured so much to become a statue),
now, totally forgotten, secretly contemplating in the rock
of a new amazing straddle, that would draw
the hunters’ attention, the butcher’s, the baker’s, the widow’s,
disproving what it had dreamed the most: its unblemished,
its glorified the made-of-marble comfortably crucified
motionlessness.

http://www.authormanolis.wordpress.com
http://www.libroslibertad.ca
http://www.ekstasiseditions.ca

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Quotes by Albert Camus//Γνωμικά του Αλμπέρτου Καμύ

“But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill oneself.”

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

“When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears.”

“Real generosity towards the future lies in giving all to the present.”

“Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.”

“An intellectual? Yes. And never deny it. An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. I like this, because I am happy to be both halves, the watcher and the watched. “Can they be brought together?” This is a practical question. We must get down to it. “I despise intelligence” really means: “I cannot bear my doubts.”

“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”

“To be happy, we must not be too concerned with others.”
~Τελικά χρειάζεσαι πιο πολύ θάρρος να ζήσεις παρά ν’ αυτοκτονήσεις

~Ο μόνος τρόπος ν’ αντιμετωπίσεις έναν ανελεύθερο κόσμο είναι να νιώσεις τόσο ελεύθερος που η κάθε σου πράξη να `ναι μια πράξη εξέγερσης

~Όταν παρατηρώ τη ζωή μου και τα κρυφά της χρώματα, νιώθω την ανάγκη να κλάψω

~Πραγματική μελλοντική γεναιοδωρία είναι να τα δίνεις όλα στο παρόν

~Ευλογημένες οι καρδιές που λυγίζουν γιατί ποτέ δεν θα σπάσουν

~Διανοούμενος; Ναι και μην το αρνηθείς ποτέ. Διανοούμενος είναι αυτός που το μυαλό του προσέχει τον εαυτό του. Κι αυτό μ’ αρέσει γιατί προτιμώ να `μαι δύο μισά, ο παρατηρηρτής κι ο παρατηρούμενος. ‘Μπορούν άραγε να ταυτιστούν;’ Αυτή είναι πρακτική ερώτηση. Ας την εξετάσουμε. ‘Απεχθάνομαι την ευφυία’ στην πραγματικότητα σημαίνει ‘δεν μπορώ να υπομένω τις αμφιβολίες μου’

~Το φθινόπωρο είναι μια δεύτερη άνοιξη όταν το κάθε φύλλο είναι κι ένα λουλούδι

~Να νιώσεις ευτυχής σημαίνει ν’ αδιαφορείς για τους άλλους
~ Μετάφραση στα ελληνικά ΜΑΝΩΛΗ ΑΛΥΓΙΖΑΚΗ / translation by MANOLIS ALIGIZAKIS

Albert Camus (1913—1960)

Albert Camus was a French-Algerian journalist, playwright, novelist, writer of philosophical essays, and Nobel laureate. Though neither by advanced training nor profession a philosopher, Camus nevertheless through his literary works and in numerous reviews, articles, essays, and speeches made important, forceful contributions to a wide range of issues in moral philosophy – from terrorism and political violence to suicide and the death penalty. In awarding him its prize for literature in 1957, the Nobel committee cited the author’s persistent efforts to “illuminate the problem of the human conscience in our time,” and it is pre-eminently as a writer of conscience and as a champion of imaginative literature as a vehicle of philosophical insight and moral truth that Camus was honored by his own generation and is still admired today. He was at the height of his career, at work on an autobiographical novel, planning new projects for theatre, film, and television, and still seeking a solution to the lacerating political turmoil in his native Algeria, when he died tragically in an automobile accident in January, 1960.

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FUNERAL

We buried him, yesterday afternoon, in the freshly dug soil,
a small twig that he was, the poet with his thin gray beard.
His only sin: so much he loved the birds that didn’t come
to his funeral.
The sun went down behind the army barracks where the future
dead slept and the lone hawk, lover of songs, sat on the oak
branch; women lamented for the day’s yellow rapture and after
approving everything the hawk flew away, as if to define
distance. Wind blew over the surface of the lake searching
for the traitor who had run to the opposite shore where
judgement was passed and the ancient cross remained with
no corpse.
Everyone felt joyous, wine and finger food had to do with it
the hawk returned without news and the beggar extended
his hand and softly begged:
“two bits, man, God bless your soul, two bits.’

ΚΗΔΕΙΑ

Χθες το απόγευμα, τον θάψαμε στο φρεσκοσκαμμένο χώμα,
λες να `τανε βλαστάρι ενός δεντρού, το ποιητή με τ’ αραιό
γκρίζο γενάκι. Μόνη του αμαρτία που αγαπούσε πολύ
τα πουλιά κι αυτά ξέχασαν στην κηδεία του να έρθουν.
Ο ήλιος έδυσε πίσω απ’ το στρατόπεδο με τους νεκρούς
της αύριον και το γεράκι, μονιάς της λαγκαδιάς, καθόταν
στης οξιάς κλαδί. Γυναίκες κλάψαν για το κίτρινο συναίσθημα
της μέρας και το γεράκι αφού όλα τα επιδοκίμασε, πέταξε
μακρυά τις αποστάσεις για να καθορίσει, ο αγέρας φύσηξε
πάνω απ’ τη λίμνη, λες κι έψαχνε για τον προδότη που είχε
πάει στην αντιπέρα όχθη, εκεί που κρίνονται οι δίκαιοι
κι ο πανάρχαιος σταυρός έμεινε δίχως κορμί.
Όλοι ένιωσαν ευέλπιστοι απ’ το κρασί και τους μεζέδες,
ξανάρθε το γεράκι δίχως να φέρει νέα κι ο ζητιάνος έτεινε
το χέρι και καλοκάγαθα ψυθίριζε:
‘ελεημοσύνη χριστιανοί, ελεημοσύνη.’

~Υπεράνθρωπος/Ubermensch, Ekstasis Editions, Victoria, BC, 2013

http://www.ekstasiseditions.com

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Posted on January 17, 2015

In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the pangs of a guilty conscience drive Lady Macbeth to madness. Her doctor remarks that medicine cannot cure a sense of guilt. “More needs she the divine than the physician.” Guilt overwhelms Lady Macbeth until she finally commits suicide at the end of the play.
Considering the powerful influence that guilt can have over a person, it is important to explore the origin and nature of this emotion in order to possibly gain some control over it. In this video, we will discuss Nietzsche’s theory concerning the origin of guilt, and we will also explain what it indicates for the future of mankind.
To feel guilty means to feel painful regret for some wrong committed. According to Nietzsche, the concepts of right and wrong arose with the development of societies. He describes guilt as a disease that humanity caught when it formed these social communities. “I look on bad conscience as a serious illness to which man was forced to succumb by the pressure of the change whereby he finally found himself imprisoned within the confines of society and peace.”
When man left the lawless wilderness and entered into societies, he entered into an entirely new world where his old instincts were worthless. Nietzsche compares this radical change experienced by man to the change experienced by the first sea animals to venture onto land. “It must have been no different for man, happily adapted to the wilderness, war, the wandering life and adventure than it was for the sea animals when they were forced to either become land animals or perish – at one go, all instincts were devalued and ‘suspended’. The poor things were reduced to relying on thinking, inference, calculation, and the connecting of cause with effect, that is, to relying on their mind, that most impoverished and error-prone organ!”
Man’s wild instincts, however, did not fade away. Instead, he was forced to turn his instincts for cruelty inwards because the new laws of societies prohibited violence. “Those terrible bulwarks with which state organizations protected themselves against the old instincts of freedom had the result that all those instincts of the wild, free, roving man were turned backwards, against man himself. Animosity, cruelty, the pleasure of pursuing, raiding, changing and destroying – all this was pitted against the person who had such instincts.”
After diverting his cruel instincts towards himself, man began to grow sick of existence. Nietzsche refers to this sentiment as the worst and most insidious illness ever to afflict man, and an illness from which man has yet to recover. “Lacking external enemies and obstacles, and forced into the oppressive narrowness and conformity of custom, man impatiently ripped himself apart, persecuted himself, gnawed at himself, gave himself no peace and abused himself, this animal who battered himself raw on the bars of his cage and who is supposed to be ‘tamed’; man, full of emptiness and torn apart with homesickness for the desert, has had to create within himself an adventure, a torture-chamber, an unsafe and hazardous wilderness – this fool, this prisoner consumed with longing and despair, became the inventor of ‘bad conscience’.”
Despite the dismal diagnosis of civilized man’s illness, Nietzsche regarded the disease of guilt, like all other afflictions in life, to be an opportunity to enhance human excellence. To him, mankind’s ability to turn against itself is indicative of man’s potential to achieve something great in the future – to achieve the meaning of the earth – to achieve the birth of the Ubermensch. “The prospect of an animal soul turning against itself was something so new, profound, puzzling, contradictory and momentous that the whole character of the world changed in an essential way. Man arouses interest, tension, hope, almost certainty for himself, as though something were being announced through him, were being prepared, as though man were not an end but just a path, an episode, a bridge, a great promise.”
To conclude, Nietzsche asserts that a guilty conscience developed when mankind formed societies and established laws. These social institutions forced man to turn his cruel and wild instincts inwards against himself. When man finally overcomes his bad conscience – which is nothing more than contempt for life – he will be one step closer to giving birth to the Ubermensch.
http://www.orwell.wordpress.com

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ODYSSEY A

And when in his wide courtyards Odysseus had cut down
the insolent youths, he hung on high his sated bow
and strode to the warm bath to cleanse his bloodstained body.
Two slaves prepared his bath, but when they saw their lord
they shrieked with terror, for his loins and belly steamed
and thick black blood dripped down from both his murderous palms
their copper jugs rolled clanging on the marble tiles.
The wandering man smiled gently in his horny beard
and with his eyebrows signed the frightened girls to go.

ΟΔΥΣΣΕΙΑ Α

Σαν πια ποθέρισε τους γαύρους νιους μες στις φαρδιές αυλές του,
το καταχόρταστο ανακρέμασε δοξάρι του ο Δυσσέας
και διάβη στο θερμό λουτρό, το μέγα του κορμί να πλύνει.
Δυο δούλες συγκερνούσαν το νερό, μα ως είδαν τον αφέντη
μπήξαν φωνή, γιατι η σγουρή κοιλιά και τα μεριά του αχνίζαν
και μαύρα στάζαν αίματα πηχτά κι από τις δυο του φούχτες
και κύλησαν στις πλάκες οι χαλκές λαγήνες τους βροντώντας.
Ο πολυπλάνητος γελάει πραγά μες στα στριφτά του γένια
και γνέφει παίζοντας τα φρύδια του στις κοπελλιές να φύγουν.
Το χλιο πολληώρα φραίνουνταν νερό κι οι φλέβες του ξαπλώναν
μες το κορμί σαν ποταμοί, και τα νεφρά του δροσερεύαν
κι ο μέγας νους μες στο νερό ξαστέρωνε κι αναπαυόταν.

~ODYSSEY, by NIKOS KAZANTZAKIS, translated by KIMON FRIAR

Nikos Kazantzakis
1883-1957
Nikos Kazantzakis was born in Heraklion, Crete, when the island was still under Ottoman rule. He studied law in Athens (1902-06) before moving to Paris to pursue postgraduate studies in philosophy (1907-09) under Henri Bergson. It was at this time that he developed a strong interest in Nietzsche and seriously took to writing. After returning to Greece, he continued to travel extensively, often as a newspaper correspondent. He was appointed Director General of the Ministry of Social Welfare (1919) and Minister without Portfolio (1945), and served as a literary advisor to UNESCO (1946). Among other distinctions, he was president of the Hellenic Literary Society, received the International Peace Award in Vienna in 1956 and was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Kazantzakis regarded himself as a poet and in 1938 completed his magnum opus, The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel, divided into 24 rhapsodies and consisting of a monumental 33,333 verses. He distinguished himself as a playwright (The Prometheus Trilogy, Kapodistrias, Kouros, Nicephorus Phocas, Constantine Palaeologus, Christopher Columbus, etc), travel writer (Spain, Italy, Egypt, Sinai, Japan-China, England, Russia, Jerusalem and Cyprus) and thinker (The Saviours of God, Symposium). He is, of course, best known for his novels Zorba the Greek (1946), The Greek Passion (1948), Freedom or Death (1950), The Last Temptation of Christ (1951) and his semi-autobiographical Report to Greco (1961). His works have been translated and published in over 50 countries and have been adapted for the theatre, the cinema, radio and television.

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ΥΠΟΘΕΣΕΙΣ

Ταχτοποίησες όλες τις υποθέσεις σου
με συγγενείς και φίλους

που ποτέ δεν θυμούνται
να σε καλέσουν
σε χαρούμενες μέρες
αλλά μόνο σε κηδείες.

Ταχτοποίησες τις ενοχλητικές σου
αναμνήσεις, όνειρα απραγματοποίητα

και τώρα γαλήνιος βάζεις
το καπέλο σου και ξεκινάς
έξω απ’ τη φυλακή σου να βαδίσεις

μία στροφή προς το εμπορικό κέντρο
που θα συναντήσεις φίλους σου
και μετά από μια παρτίδα τάβλι
δύο καφέδες και τρία τσιγάρα

θα επιστρέφεις πάλι σπίτι
για μιαν ακόμα βουβή βραδιά.

AFFAIRS

You’ve settled your affairs with
friends and relatives who
forget to call you during their

festive events though they always
invite you to funerals

you’ve settled with annoying memories
dreams that never turned into reality

in peace with yourself now
you put on your cap and

walk out of your prison
turn toward the shopping mall
where you’ll meet your pals and

after a game of backgammon
two coffees and three cigarettes

you walk back to your house
for another long soundless night

ON REMORSES AND REGRETS, Collection in Progress.

ΛΙΛΗ-ΖΩΓΡΑΦΟΥ

Lily Zografos: Greece prostitutes herself, consciously and unconsciously.

No one is innocent no one is above his responsibility
I don’t promote any style, way of expression or literature. I don’t write short stories. I report events and signs of the current days. Everything I report has happened to me or to others. For years I’ve spent my life keeping an eye on everything and everyone.
Life goes through me, entrusts me with its ugliness, infuriates me with its systematic injustice it humbles me for my inability to react, to successfully rebel to defend our common ridicule.
If I could be twenty year old again I would start from the mountain peaks, a partisan, a thief, a pirate to open the eyes of those who with no complain accept their fate, as much as those who close their eyes intentionally. No, my revolution wouldn’t go against the establishment but against those who bow down to it. I would kill I would fight the misery, the submission, the modesty.
There is no room on Earth for the humble and the contempt as there is no room for the mouthpieces of the Revolution.
Life has become so inhumane to be moulded into shapes and schemes it doesn’t belong to us as nothing belongs to us of the earth we occupy to our faces.
When the first stupid ass, the first worthless person can tie us on a chair, on a bench or a bed and he can spit on our faces, whip our backs defile us.
The running rot system condones and supports unscrupulousness, beastly behaviour, chaos, abolishing the respect for human life. Nothing is left unexploited from the generation gap that separates people from each other and prepares the children-informers of Hitler up to the complete abolition of the family.
Man is put up for bids. That the system won’t face any resistance when in the near future will put up for bids our motherland.
Papadoloulos* was a trial, an experiment in the European sphere like the thousands of experiments that take place in every corner of the planet. The recipe is simple: When a people raise their head against their leader, representative of the neo-capitalist system just find a bum and let him put handcuffs on the wrists of these people. Then let them exhaust themselves.
Most likely the people will get used to become neutralized for thirty forty years as it happened to Spain and Portugal. But as time goes by things happen in a lot faster pace as the recipe has been modified.
Take the reign from the bum and give them back to the old leader and send him to un-cuff the people. The populace will lick his hands seeing him as their liberator.
For this, we, the today’s guinea pigs we owe to use the term BC as before the Junta and AC as after the Junta, because the experiment was successful and we can’t forget the moment. Greece prostitutes itself, consciously and unconsciously. No one is innocent. No one is above his responsibility.

~Piece from the book “Profession Prostitute” by Lily Zografos, Alexandria Publishers, 1998.
~The last interview given by Lily Zografos to the reporter Anrdeas Roumeliotis

*Papadopoulos, one of the four colonels, dictatorship of 1967-1974
Λιλή Ζωγράφου: Η Ελλάδα εκδίδεται, συνειδητά και ασύνειδα. Κι ούτε ένας αθώος. Ανεύθυνος κανένας
«Δεν πουλώ ύφος, στυλ, λογοτεχνία. Δεν γράφω διηγήματα. Καταθέτω γεγονότα και συμπτώματα της εποχής που ζω. Όλα όσα γράφω συνέβησαν. Σε μένα ή σε άλλους. Χρόνια τώρα σπαταλιέμαι, παρακολουθώντας όλα κι όλους.
Η ζωή περνά από μέσα μου, με διαποτίζει με την ασκήμια της, με γεμίζει λύσσα με την αδικία της την οργανωμένη, με ταπεινώνει με την ανημποριά μου ν’ αντιδράσω, να επαναστατήσω αποτελεσματικά, να υπερασπιστώ το μαζικό μας εξευτελισμό.
Αν ξαναγινόμουν είκοσι χρόνων θα ξεκινούσα από τις κορφές των βουνών, αντάρτης, ληστής, πειρατής, ν’ ανοίξω τα μάτια εκείνων που δέχονται αδιαμαρτύρητα τη μοίρα τους, όσο και κείνων που εθελοτυφλούν. Όχι, η επανάστασή μου δε θα στρεφόταν κατά του καταστημένου και του συστήματός του, αλλά εναντίον εκείνων που το ανέχονται. Θα σκότωνα, θα τσάκιζα την κακομοιριά, την υποταγή, την ταπεινοφροσύνη.
Η γη έτσι κι αλλιώς δε χωρά άλλους ταπεινούς και καταφρονεμένους. Όπως δε χωρά άλλα φερέφωνα προκάτ επανάστασης.
Η ζωή γίνηκε πια πάρα πολύ απάνθρωπη για να την καλουπώνουμε σε σχήματα, δε μας ανήκει καν, όπως δε μας ανήκει τίποτα, από τη γη που κατοικούμε ως τα πρόσωπά μας.
Όταν ο κάθε τυχάρπαστος, ο κάθε τιποτένιος, μπορεί να μάς δέσει πάνω σε μια καρέκλα, σ’ έναν πάγκο ή σ’ ένα κρεβάτι, να μάς φτύσει, να μάς μαστιγώσει, να μάς βιάσει.
Το Σύστημα αποχαλινωμένο καλλιεργεί σκόπιμα την ασυνειδησία, την αγριότητα, το χάος, καταλύοντας το σεβασμό για τον ανθρώπινο παράγοντα. Δεν άφησε τίποτα ανεκμετάλλευτο, από το “χάσμα των γενιών” που αποκόβει τους ανθρώπους μεταξύ τους και ετοιμάζει τους αυριανούς παιδιά-καταδότες του Χίτλερ, ως την κατάργηση της οικογένειας.
Ο άνθρωπος βγαίνει στο σφυρί. Για να μη βρίσκει το Σύστημα καμιά αντίδραση και να μπορέσει αύριο να βγάλει ελεύθερα στο σφυρί και τις πατρίδες.
Ο Παπαδόπουλος ήταν μια δοκιμή και στον ευρωπαϊκό χώρο, κατά το σύστημα των χιλιάδων πειραμάτων που πραγματοποιούνται σ’ όλες τις περιοχές του πλανήτη. Η συνταγή είναι πια κοινή: Όταν ένας λαός σηκώσει κεφάλι κατά του κυβερνήτη του, εκπρόσωπου του κεφαλαιοκρατικού συστήματος, βρείτε έναν αλήτη και αναθέστε του να περάσει χειροπέδες σ’ αυτό το λαό. Κι αφήστε τον να εξουθενωθεί.
Το πιθανότερο είναι να συνηθίσει και να ζήσει εξουδετερωμένος από τριάντα μέχρι σαράντα χρόνια, όπως συνέβη στην Ισπανία και την Πορτογαλία. Επειδή όμως οι καιροί αλλάζουν, τα πράματα πάνε γρηγορότερα, η συνταγή τροποποιήθηκε.
Πάρτε τα κλειδιά από τον αλήτη, δώστε τα στον παλιό κυβερνήτη και στείλτε τον να ξεκλειδώσει τις χειροπέδες. Ο λαός θα του γλείφει τα χέρια, βλέποντάς τον σαν ελευθερωτή του.
Γι’ αυτό και μεις, τα σύγχρονα πειραματόζωα, οφείλουμε να χρησιμοποιούμε πάντα τον όρο π.Χ., που θα σημαίνει τώρα πια “προ Χούντας”, και μ.Χ., “μετά τη Χούντα”. Γιατί το πείραμα πέτυχε και δεν πρέπει να το λησμονούμε ούτε στιγμή. Η Ελλάδα εκδίδεται, συνειδητά και ασύνειδα. Κι ούτε ένας αθώος. Ανεύθυνος κανένας».
Απόσπασμα από το βιβλίο της Λιλής Ζωγράφου “Επάγγελμα Πόρνη”, Εκδόσεις Αλεξάνδρεια, 1998
Η τελευταία συνέντευξη της Λιλής Ζωγράφου στον Ανδρέα Ρουμελιώτη
Source:http://www.nostimonimar.gr/%CE%BB%CE%B9%CE%BB%CE%AE-%CE%B6%CF%89%CE%B3%CF%81%CE%AC%CF%86%CE%BF%CF%85-%CE%B7-%CE%B5%CE%BB%CE%BB%CE%AC%CE%B4%CE%B1-%CE%B5%CE%BA%CE%B4%CE%AF%CE%B4%CE%B5%CF%84%CE%B1%CE%B9-%CF%83%CF%85%CE%BD%CE%B5/

ubermensch cover

Scarecrow

He knew our peculiar desire for suffering
as if we preferred the sigh of defeated and
the signs left behind by birds in their morning flight
our eardrums soft capable of capturing the rapture
of the thunderbolt yet, we still wanted to lay next
to the woman’s breast, close enough to feel her pain
close enough to taste her anguish and He, alone
encompassed the earth as if with His song
to transcend it, while we still kneeled before
the scarecrow, jet-black eyes and straw hair
on his head that moved back and fro, myths
upon which we had based our existence.

Σκιάχτρο

Γνώριζε την παράξενή μας προτροπή για βάσανα
σαν να μας άρεσε του ηττημένου ο στεναγμός
και τα πρωινά σημάδια που αφήναν τα πουλιά
στο πέταγμά τους. Τ’ αυτιά μας απαλές μεμβράνες
της καταιγίδας το πανδαιμόνιο που συλλαμβάνανε
κι ακόμα θέλαμε δίπλα σε γυναίκας βυζί να κοιμηθούμε
τόσο κοντά τον πόνο της να νιώσουμε, τόσο κοντά
την αγωνία της για να γευτούμε κι όμως εκείνος
μόνος του τη γη ολόκληρη με μια ματιά αγκάλιαζε
σα να `θελε με το τραγούδι του να τη μετουσιώσει
κι εμείς ακόμα γονατίζαμε μπροστά σε σκιάχτρα
με μάτια κατάμαυρα κι άχυρο στο κεφάλι που μπρός
και πίσω πήγαιναν, μύθοι που πάνω τους στηρίξαμε
την ύπαρξή μας.

Ubermensch, Ekstasis Editions, Victoria, BC, 2013
http://www.ekstasiseditions.com

92197382_134014707867

KOSTAS VARNALIS

Varnalis was born in Burgas, Eastern Rumelia (now in Bulgaria), in 1884. As his name suggests, his family originated from Varna; his father’s family name was Boubous.[1] He completed his elementary studies in the Zariphios Greek high school in Plovdiv and then moved to Athens to study literature at the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens. While there, he became involved in the Greek language dispute, taking the side of the demoticists over the supporters of the katharevousa. After his graduation in 1908 he worked for some time as a teacher in Burgas, before returning to Greece and teaching in Amaliada and Athens. During the next years, he worked as a teacher and part-time journalist, also engaging in translation work. In 1913, he took part in the Second Balkan War.
In 1919 he gained a scholarship and travelled to Paris where he studied philosophy, literature and sociology. It was during his Parisian studies that he became a Marxist and reviewed his ideas on poetry in theory and in practice. His political alignment resulted in his being dismissed from his teaching position at the Paedagocical Academy in 1926 and barred from any state employment. Varnalis thus took to journalism, a profession he practiced until the end of his life. In 1929, he married the poetess Dora Moatsou. In 1935, he participated in the Soviet Writers’ Conference in Moscow as Greece’s representative. Under the 4th of August Regime, he was sent to internal exile in Mytilene and Agios Efstratios. During the German Occupation of Greece, he took part in the resistance movement as a member of the National Liberation Front (EAM). In 1959, he was awarded the Lenin Peace Prize. Varnalis died in Athens on 16 December 1974, and is buried in the First Cemetery of Athens.

RECENTLY

Everything is black in front of you, each and every day
seem darker than the nights. Behind the mountains
the photosphere was put out years ago.
And if your eyes turn back to look
your pain is double as you realize
today is more black than yesterday

ΤΑ ΛΟΙΣΘΙΑ
Όλα μπροστά σου μαύρα, η κάθε μέρα
πιο μαύρη από τη νύχτα. Η φωτοσφαίρα
σβημένη χρόνια πίσω απ’ τα βουνά.
Κι αν κάποτες τα μάτια σου γυρνάνε
πίσω, διπλά πονάς, `τί βλέπεις να `ναι
πιο μαύρα απ’ τα παλιά, τα τωρινά.

~ Kostas Varnalis, ΟΡΓΗ ΛΑΟΥ, RAGE OF THE PEOPLE, translated by Manolis Aligizakis