Posts Tagged ‘hallway’

cover

 

ΕΚ ΠΡΩΤΗΣ όψεως, βέβαια, όλοι φαίνονται απροσδόκητα
ενώ αυτό που φοβόμαστε έχει γίνει από καιρό, κι ήτανε μέσα μας,
κι εμείς το πηγαίναμε στην επικίνδυνη ώρα και συχνά σταματού-
σες στη μέση της σκάλας, γιατί ποιός ξέρει πού είναι το άλλο
σκαλοπάτι, ιδιαίτερα το βράδυ καθώς διάβαινες τις άδειες κάμα-
ρες, σου `πεφτε πάντα κάτι απ’ τα χέρια, σαν να `θελε να ξαναγυ-
ρίσει, και τότε, όπως γονάτιζες να το βρεις, συναντούσες τον
άλλον
αφού κάθε κίνηση μας προδίνει, κι ένα άλλο ποτήρι σηκώνεις
απ’ αυτό που πήγαινες, προτίμησα, λοιπόν, να σωπάσω, μα όταν
μες στο σκοτάδι χτύπησαν μεσάνυχτα, όλο το σπίτι ράγισε άξαφνα,
και τότε, στο βάθος του διαδρόμου, το είδαμε που πέρασε εντελώς
καθαρά.
AT FIRST glance of course everything seem to be unexpected
while what we’ve feared had already taken place and was inside us
and we carried it to the dangerous hour and often you would stop
in the middle of the stairs because, who knows where was the next
step; especially in the night as you walked through the empty rooms
something always fell off your hands as if wanting to return and
then as you’d kneel to find it you would meet the other man
since every gesture gives us up and you carry a different
glass from the one you wanted, I therefore chose to keep silent;
but when in darkness midnight struck suddenly the whole
house shook and then at the end of the hallway we saw him
as he quite clearly walked by us.

~Τάσου Λειβαδίτη-Εκλεγμένα Ποιήματα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη
~Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems/Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

http://www.libroslibertad.ca
http://www.authormanolis.wordpress.com
http://www.amazon.com
http://www.amazon.kindle.com
http://www.smashwords.com

FOREWORD

The people’s poet in more than one way, Tasos Livaditis stands apart from other poets of his era because of his deep understanding, his heart rendering existential agony, initially expressed as a tender cry filled with compassion within the boundaries of his optimistic realism and on the second phase of his creative career as an introverted search for the meaning of life in the past after the dissolution of his expectations as an artist-fighter for a better future.
The calendar will show October
with the wilted leaves and revolutions

It was October when he said to us farewell. We kept his most recent verses that underscored that message yet not only.

Here I‘ve come to the end. Time to go. As you will also go.
and the ghosts of my life will search for me
running in the night and leaves will shiver and fall.
Autumn comes this way. For this, I say to you,
let us look at life with more compassion, since it was never real.

He never imagined that the ghosts of his life would multiply in such a fast pace soon after his death. The adventure of his vision turned out to become a hardship, the rapid fashion of change in social behaviour and charting even unforeseen by the most suspicious of men truly shifted dramatically in the short nineteen years after his death. Within just one or two years after his death the so called socialistic dream collapsed in an unforgiving way that turned the obviously existent into a fable.

However Livaditis knew deep inside that only the Just Time eventually justifies one. Today the Just Time says about Livaditis that he was one very important poet. He was not at all insignificant although not recognized enough. Because as times passes and values change or shift position the Just Time sets laws and flawless details in the Stock Market of Values.

Tasos Livaditis is one of the last poets who dreamed of a different Greece and gave all he had to turn that dream into reality. He was one of the last who believed in the collective versus the personal even if that collective meant dramatic adventures, not only his exile and persecution but also the adventure of his internal revolution. The person who dreamed of a better world was embittered when he realized the utopia of his vision. Yet he never lost faith in man and although the serious severing that took place in his life scared him he always stood gracefully opposite the descending sun and in that glamour of red dusk he wept alone but with optimism for the future.
Unfortunately his life was cut short and at the age of 66 when he departed leaving a nation to mourn the people’s poet and to reflect and shift their focus toward his vision because the world of the poet is the world of humiliation and exhaustion. It’s the world of bitterness and futility and Tasos Livaditis suffered a lot, was persecuted a lot and pendulated a lot in his life. How else could he write such great poems?

There is a similarity in the life of this man and the life of Yannis Ristsos whom Tasos Livaditis refer to as the teacher. Both men were leftists along with Avgeris, Varnalis, Anagnostakis and others, they were both exiled for their political views, they both left behind a vast bibliography, they both had one daughter and they both went through a poetic shift, a change of focus from writing poetry to serve the cause of the left to writing poetry having in its center the progress, improvement and refinement of the external and internal pleats of man.

In the Introduction of this edition I have added one poem written by Yannis Ritsos and excerpts from reviews written in Greek by friends and close associates of the poet on the twentieth anniversary of Tasos Livaditis’ death. I have translated these excerpts and place them in the order I thought most appropriate. I chose to introduce this great poet to the English speaking world not only with the regular introduction format but also with these comments published by Kedros in 2008, this poet’s exclusive publisher.

The sources of these reviews are referred to in the bibliography of this book.

My heartfelt thank you is extended to Mr. Stelios Petros Halas for granting me his permission to do this translation.

~Manolis Aligizakis

35774-tl

 

ΤΟ ΑΓΓΙΓΜΑ

      Καθώς προχωρούσα στό διάδρομο, είδα μέ τρόμο, ότι η ρωγμή

στόν τοίχο είχε μεγαλώσει καί δέν τήν σκέπαζε πιά η πανοπλία πού

βάζαμε μπροστά, ετοίμασα λοιπόν, τά πράγματά μου, μά έπρεπε

πρώτα ν’ αποχαιρετίσω εκείνο τό γέρο, ερχόταν τίς νύχτες κρυφά

καί μάς διηγόταν τήν ατέλειωτη γλύκα αυτού τού μάταιου κόσμου,

      ώσπου, σιγά σιγά, ύστερα από τόση εγκατάλειψη σχεδόν πιά δέ

φαινόμουν, καί μόνο τά παλιά πορτρέτα μέ γνώριζαν, γιατί ήταν κι

εκείνα αθέλητα μέσα στόν κόμσο, όμως, τά βράδια, αυτό τό άγγιγ-

μα βέβαια φανταστικό, αλλά στό τέλος πάντα νικούσε, κι έστρεφα

τά μάτια μόλο πού δέν ήταν κανείς, «είστε εδώ;» ρώταγα — τί

άλλο μπορούσα νά κάνω.

TOUCH

As I walked in the hallway, in horror I saw that the crack

on the wall was bigger and the armour we placed before it

didn’t cover it anymore so I prepared my things, but first

I had to say goodbye to that old man who secretly came at night

and told us about the endless sweetness of this futile world,

     until, slowly after so much abandonment I was almost

invisible and only the old portraits recognized me because

they were also unwillingly in the world however at night

this touch, imaginary of course though at the end always

victorious and I turned my eyes although no-one was

around “are you here” I would ask—what else could

I do?

35774-tl

ΤΑ ΚΑΡΦΙΑ

          Σκέφτομαι, κάποτε, σέ μιά ιδιαίτερη ώρα, νά διηγηθώ όλες τίς

λεπτομέρειες, πώς, λόγου χάρη, άρχισε αυτή η αθεράπευτη αρρώ-

στια στόν απέναντι τοίχο ή γιά εκείνη τή γυναίκα στό πάρκο, πού

ήταν ολόκληρη καρφωμένη πάνω στό παγκάκι, καί λέω καρφωμένη

χωρίς ίχνος υπερβολής, τά καρφιά εξείχαν σάν μικρά κουμπιά πάνω

απ’ τά ρούχα της, ενώ η τσάντα μέ την ταυτότητά της κυλούσε

μές στό ρυάκι, γιά νά μήν ξέρουμε τίποτα γι αυτήν, κι όπως ανέ-

βηκα στή σοφίτα πού μού `χαν παραχωρήσει γιά τή νύχτα, είδα

πώς είχαν μετακομίσει, καί δέν έμενε παρά λίγο άχυρο, επειδή

είχαν πάντα τό φόβο τού ξεπεσμού, κι ήταν στιγμές πού όλοι περί-

μεναν τό αναπόφευκτο, κι όταν νύχτωνε ήρεμα, ησύχαζαν, γιατί

εκείνοι δέν πηγαινοέρχονταν στό διάδρομο, νά δούν ακριβώς πίσω

απ’ τήν πόρτα τού βάθους.

         Γι’ αυτό κι εγώ κρατιέμαι παράμερα, μέ τήν ελπίδα να ξαναβρώ

εκείνη τή χαμένη ψυχή.

 

 

 

 

 

THE NAILS

     Sometimes, that special hour, I think of narrating all the details:

how, for example, this incurable disease started on the opposite wall

or about that woman in the park, whose body was nailed on the bench,

and I say this without exaggeration, the nails protruded from her cloths

like small buttons, while her purse with her identity card floated down

the creek, that we couldn’t find out anything about her, and as I

went up to the loft they allotted to me for the night, I discovered they

had moved and only hay was left behind, because they always had

the fear of comedown, and there were moments when everyone

anticipated the inescapable and when the night fell serenely, they

quietened down, because the others weren’t going back and forth

in the hallway to look behind the door at the far end.

     For this I’ve stayed on the sidelines, with the hope of rediscovering

that lost soul.

Τάσος Λειβαδίτης-Εκλεγμένα Ποιήματα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη

Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems/Translated by Manolis Aligizakis