Posts Tagged ‘song’

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ΣΥΝΤΡΟΦΙΚΟ ΤΡΑΓΟΥΔΙ

 

Έρχομαι από μέρες που πρέπει ν’ αποσιωπηθούν, από νύχτες

που θέλω να τις ξεχάσω, περπάτησα τρέμοντας μέσα στον πυρετό

των μεγαλουπόλεων, είδα τα μεγάλα ρολόγια των εκκλησιών να

συμμαχούν με τον διάβολο, είδα τους φτωχούς να περπατάνε αθόρυ-

βα στο δρόμο όπως ο Χριστός επί των υδάτων, λαϊκές εξεγέρσεις

μου χάρισαν βασιλικά απογέματα, αλλά τη νύχτα κινδύνεψα μπρο-

στά σ’ έναν έρημο κήπο.

Εκείνος που άνοιξε μια πόρτα για να κοιμηθεί, δεν είδε τ’

άστρα ν’ αναιρούν τη ματαιότητα, αυτοί που θάψανε τους νεκρούς

τους δεν ξέρουν τί σημαίνει ανάμνηση —

άνθρωποι ταπεινοί, που ξύπνησαν μ’ ένα άχυρο σκαλωμένο

στα μαλλιά τους, σαν μόλις να δοξάστηκαν κάπου αλλού,

και πήγαινα στη δημοσιά σφυρίζοντας — ώ παλιό, συντροφικό

τραγούδι.

 

 

 

SONG OF THE COMRADES

 

I’ve come from days that have to be silenced, I’ve come from

nights I want to forget; shivering I walked in the fever of the big

cities I saw the big clocks of churches in alliance with the devil,

I saw poor people who walked softly in the streets like Christ

on water, popular uprisings graced me with royal afternoons but

at night I was in fear in front of the deserted garden.

He, who opened a door in order to sleep didn’t see the stars

that refuted futility, those who buried their dead didn’t know

the meaning of memory —

humble people who woke up with a piece of hay in their hair

as if they were glorified somewhere else

and I walked along the public road whistling — oh, old, song of

the comrades.

 

 

TASOS LIVADITIS, translated by Manolis Aligizakis, Libros Libertad, Vancouver, 2014

www.libroslibertad.com

www.manolisaligizakis.com

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ΑΡΕΤΟΥΣΑ

Είντ’ αφορμή ξεκίνησε την όρεξί σου σ’ τούτα
απού την πρώτη π’ άρχισες τραγούδια και λαγούτα
κ’ εις είντα στράτα πορπατείς, κ’ είντα `ναι τα γυρεύεις
κ’ είντα `χεις με τα λόγου μου, και θες να με παιδεύγεις;

ARETOUSA

What reason moved your desire into this
when you began with songs and lutes?
Which path do you tread, what you seek
and what you wish from me and thus you torture me?

ΕΡΩΤΟΚΡΙΤΟΣ

Μια κάποια λίγη πεθυμιά εσήκωσε το νου μου
και δυο φτερούγες ήκαμε μέσα του λογισμού μου
τούτες στον ουρανό πετού, την πεθυμιά μου πάσι
κι ωσά σιμώσου στη φωτιά, τσι καίει εκείν’ η βράσι

EROTOKRITOS

A certain tiny desire stirred my mind and
grew two wings within my reason and
the wings lift my desire and bring it to the sky
yet they near the flame that consumes them

~Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

The Best Literature Inspired by the Greek Islands

The Greek Islands have been a source of literary inspiration from the ancient times. The unique beauty of the natural landscape , the warm Mediterranean climate and distinct local culture are some of the reasons behind this inspiration. But also this small country’s hardships in the face of political changes and terrifying historical challenges have captured the attention of foreign and local authors. Below we have listed five of the most famous novels which take place in the Greek Islands.

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Table by the Sea in Greece © George Pachantouris/Flickr

Zorba the Greek (1946)
Zorba the Greek is perhaps the most famous Greek book by talented Greek author Nikos Kazantzakis. The book tells the story of a young Greek intellectual, the narrator, who spends a year in a rural village in the greek island of Crete with Zorba, a simple worker whose character is an antithesis of his own. Zorba is a man full of life and talents, with strong natural instincts and folk wisdom. The narrator slowly, and while experiencing the predicaments of rural life in Crete, comes to realise how weak his intellectual superiority is to Zorbas’ simple understanding of life. The book touched millions of hearts when it was turned into a movie in 1964 starring Anthony Queen. For many the character of Zorba became a popular symbol of Greek soul.

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Watching the Twilight in Patmos © Yiannis Theologos Michellis/Flickr
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (1994)

Another book also turned into a movie is Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières. Set in the Greek island of Cephallonia during the German and Italian occupation of the Second World War, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin narrates the touching love story of Italian young captain Antonio Corelli and Pelagia, the daughter of the local Greek doctor. The romance that develops under adversary circumstances has to suffer the strikes of fate when Italy joins forces with the Allies and the Germans on the island turn on the Italians. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin is an emotionally charged story that works on different levels: It is a love story and war story and at the same time a historic account that reflects many of the bitter untold realities of the country’s wartime suffering.

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Scan1©TakaUmemura/Flickr
The Island (2005)

Victoria Hislop’s literary debut, the Island, begins with a woman travelling to the island of Crete in search of her mother’s past. She is surprised to find out that her mother’s native village of Plaka is near the island of Spinaloga, a former Greek leper colony. She will then learn from a family friend the tragic story of her mother’s family through three generations of tumultuous lives and passions. Victoria Hislop was awarded the 2007 British Book Award for the Island, and it also became a popular series for Greek television – To Nisi – and the most expensive television production ever in Greece.

The Two Faces of January (1964)
Patricia Highsmith’s 1964 psychological thriller narrates the story of an American con-artist Chester McFarland and his wife Colette, who find themselves in trouble in Greece when Chester accidentally kills a Greek policeman in his hotel room in Athens. A young American lawyer helps the couple to flee to Crete, where they settle in a hotel. But more trouble emerges there as the trio turn on each other and tragedy falls in the ancient site of Knossos. The story follows the classic Patricia Highsmith breathtaking storytelling pattern that moves the action to different locations: after Crete, back to Athens, and then to a whole new setting altogether in Paris. The Greek island becomes the “far away land” and offers an ideal setting for the emotions to rise and the action to culminate.

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Odysseus and the Sirens. An 1891 painting by John William Waterhouse © National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne/WikiCommons
Odyssey (8th Century BC)

The world-famous ancient epic poem by Greek poet Homer is perhaps the one that captures the imagination the most, as it draws on an ancient past of heroes and mythical creatures. Three thousand years have passed since Odysseus found Ithaca again, and visitors from around the world still visit the island in the search of archaeological findings of Penelope’s palace. The epic Odyssey of the Greek hero who wondered ten years in the ancient seas searching for his homeland, Ithaca , will never cease to amaze, excite and inspire.

http://www.theculturetrip.com/europe/greece

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Οι ακροβάτες (Δημήτρης Κ. Τσίτος).

via Οι ακροβάτες (Δημήτρης Κ. Τσίτος).

 

Θάνος Μικρούτσικος & Κώστας Τριπολίτης, Οι ακροβάτες
(τραγούδι: Χάρις Αλεξίου / δίσκος: η Χάρις Αλεξίου σε απρόβλεπτα τραγούδια (1987) υπό τη διεύθυνση του Μάνου Χατζιδάκι)

Οι ακροβάτες

Χωρίς περιθώρια ο έρωτάς μας
ακροβατούμε συνεχώς,

όμως ούτε και οι επαγγελματίες ακροβάτες
δεν μπορούν αυτήν την αγωνία για πάντα

ή πέφτουν κάποτε, αν ανοήτως επιμείνουν,
ή σταματούν έγκαιρα…

ROPE WALKERS

Our love is without margins

we’re always over the edge

even professional rope-walkers

can’t endure such continuous agony

they either fall or foolishly persist

or they stop on time…

(Translation by Manolis Aligizakis)

http://www.thepoetsiloved.wordpress.com

Από τη συλλογή Αντιμήνσιο (εκδ. Πανδώρα, Αθήνα, 2004) του Δημήτρη Κ. Τσίτου

THIS STAR IS FOR ALL OF US

 

Yes, my beloved. Long before I met you

I had waited for you. I had always waited for you.

 

When I was a child and my mother saw me being sad

she’d lean down and ask. What is it my boy?

I’d keep silent. I would only look over her shoulder

at a world without you.

And as I would go back and forth with the pencil

it was as if I was learning to write songs for you.

When I’d touch the wet glass of the window it was

     because you were late

when at night I’d stare at the stars it was

     because I missed your eyes

and when my door bell rang and I opened

no one was there. However somewhere in the world

    your heart was beating.

This way I lived. Always.

And when we first  met—you remember?—you

     opened your arms ever so tenderly

as if you had known me for years. But of course

you had known me. Because before you ever got into my life

you had lived in my dreams

my beloved.

 

 

     Do you remember, my love, “our first big day”?

You were so nice in that yellow dress

a simple, inexpensive dress, but it was such a pretty yellow.

Its pockets embroidered with large brown flowers.

The sun fell on your face so fittingly,

that rosy cloud at the edge of the road fit so nicely

     on you

and far away the voice of the travelling knife sharpener—

    fit so nicely on you.

 

     I’d put my hands in my pockets, I’d take them out.

We’d walk without saying any words. But what could one say

when the world is so bright and your eyes

so big. A boy, at the corner of the street would sing

     about his lemonade.

We split one in two glasses. And the swallow that

suddenly flew by your hair. What did it say to you?

Your hair is so nice. It’s impossible. It must have said

     something to you.

 

The hotel was small and in an old neighborhood next

     to the train station

where we saw the manoeuvring of the trains.

 

Truly, that spring, that morning, that simple

     room of happiness

that body of yours I held for the first time, naked

the tears that I couldn’t hold back

—how they fit nicely on you.

 

 

Ah, I would like to kiss the hands of your father, your mother’s

    limbs who, for me, gave birth to you

to kiss al the chairs you touched as you walked by

    in your dress

to hide in my heart, as a talisman, a piece of the bed-sheet

    you slept in.

I could even smile

to the man who saw you naked before me

to even smile at him, who was graced with such happiness.

Because I, my beloved, I owe you something more

    than love

I owe you the song and the hope, the tears

    and again hope.  

 

In the tiniest moment with you, I lived all my life.

 

 

ΑΥΤΟ ΤΟ ΑΣΤΕΡΙ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΓΙΑ ΟΛΟΥΣ ΜΑΣ

 

“Ναί, αγαπημένη μου! Πολύ πρίν νά σέ συναντήσω
εγώ σέ περίμενα. Πάντοτε σέ περίμενα.

Σάν ήμουνα παιδί καί μ’ έβλεπε λυπημένο η μητέρα μου
έσκυβε καί μέ ρωτούσε. Τί έχεις αγόρι;
Δέ μίλαγα. Μονάχα κοίταζα πίσω απ’ τόν ώμο της
έναν κόσμο άδειο από σένα.
Καί καθώς πηγαινόφερνα τό παιδικό κοντύλι
ήτανε γιά νά μάθω νά σού γράφω τραγούδια.
Όταν ακούμπαγα στό τζάμι τής βροχής ήταν πού αργούσες

         ακόμα
όταν τή νύχτα κοίταζα τ’ αστέρια ήταν γιατί μού λείπανε τά

        μάτια σου
κι όταν χτύπαγε η πόρτα μου κι άνοιγα

δέν ήτανε κανείς. Κάπου όμως μές στόν κόσμο ήταν η καρδιά σου

        πού χτυπούσε.

Έτσι έζησα. Πάντοτε.

Κι όταν βρεθήκαμε γιά πρώτη φορά – θυμάσαι; – μού

        άπλωσες τά χέρια σου τόσο τρυφερά

σά νά μέ γνώριζες από χρόνια. Μά καί βέβαια

μέ γνώριζες. Γιατί πρίν μπείς ακόμα στή ζωή μου

είχες πολύ ζήσει μέσα στά όνειρά μου

αγαπημένη μου.

Θυμάσαι, αγάπη μου, “τήν πρώτη μεγάλη μέρα μας”;
Σού πήγαινε αυτό τό κίτρινο φόρεμα
ένα απλό φτηνό φόρεμα, μά ήταν τόσο όμορφα κίτρινο.
Οι τσέπες του κεντημένες μέ μεγάλα καφετιά λουλούδια.
Σού πήγαινε στό πρόσωπο σου ο ήλιος
σού πήγαινε στήν άκρη τού δρόμου αυτό τό τριανταφυλλένιο

      σύννεφο
κι αυτή η φωνή μακριά ενός πλανόδιου ακονιστή – σού

      πήγαινε.

Έβαζα τά χέρια μου στίς τσέπες, τά ξανάβγαζα.
Βαδίζαμε δίχως λέξη. Μά καί τί νά πεί κανείς
όταν ο κόσμος είναι τόσο φωτεινός καί τά μάτια σου
τόσο μεγάλα. Ένα παιδί στή γωνιά τραγούδαγε τίς

       λεμονάδες του.

Ήπιαμε μιά στά δυό. Κι αυτό τό χελιδόνι πού πέρασε ξαφνικά

πλάι στά μαλλιά σου. Τί σού είπε λοιπόν;
Είναι τόσο όμορφα τά μαλλιά σου. Δεν μπορεί, κάτι

       θά σού είπε.

Τό ξενοδοχείο ήταν μικρό σέ μιά παλιά συνοικία πλάι στό

      σταθμό

πού μές στήν αντηλιά κοιτάζαμε νά μανουβράρουμε τά τραίνα.

Αλήθεια κείνη η άνοιξη, εκείνο τό πρωινό, εκείνη η απλή

       κάμαρα τής ευτυχίας

αυτό τό σώμα σου πού κράταγα πρώτη φορά γυμνό

αυτά τά δάκρυα πού δέν μπόρεσα στό τέλος νά κρατήσω
– πόσο σού πήγαιναν.

Ά, θά ‘θελα νά φιλήσω τά χέρια τού πατέρα σου, τής μητέρας σου τά
         γόνατα πού σέ γεννήσανε γιά μένα
νά φιλήσω όλες τίς καρέκλες πού ακούμπησες περνώντας

         μέ τό φόρεμα σου νά

κρύψω σά φυλαχτό στόν κόρφο μου ένα μικρό κομμάτι

        απ’ τό σεντόνι πού κοιμήθηκες.

Θά μπορούσα ακόμα καί νά χαμογελάσω

στόν άντρα πού σ’ έχει δεί γυμνή πρίν από μένα

νά τού χαμογελάσω, πού τού δόθηκε μιά τόση ατέλειωτη

        ευτυχία.

Γιατί εγώ, αγαπημένη, σού χρωστάω κάτι πιό πολύ απ’ τόν

       έρωτα

εγώ σού χρωστάω τό τραγούδι καί τήν ελπίδα, τά δάκρυα

      καί πάλι τήν ελπίδα.

Στήν πιό μικρή στιγμή μαζί σου, έζησα όλη τή ζωή”.

~Τασος Λειβαδίτης/Tasos Livaditis

~Translation Manolis Aligizakis/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη