Monday, 29 September 2008

Χάρτινο Το Φεγγαράκι - Paper Moon

video

The sea shall bring birds /and the wind stars of gold,/to caressing your hair /and to kissing your hand.//The moon is made of paper/the seaside is fake/if you just had little faith in me/
everything would be so real.//Without your love/time hardly passes by /without your love/the world seems smaller.//The moon is made of paper/the seaside is fake/if you just had little faith in me/everything would be so real.

Lyrics/Poetry : Nikos Gatsos
Composer : Manos Hadjidakis
Singer : Savina Yannatou

Saturday, 27 September 2008

Vierge Moderne



The Garden

Maria,can it be
that frames alone do creak,
that panes of glass alone do ache
and tremble?
If this isn't the garden
then let me turn back,
to the quiet, where things
are thought out.

If this isn't the garden,
if the frames are creaking
because it can't get any darker,
if this isn't The Garden,
where under the apples hungry children sit
and forget the fruit they've tasted,
where a flame can't be seen,
but breath is more dark
and more hopeful are herbs of the night . . .
I know not, Maria, this sickness of mine.
It's my garden that rises above me.

Olga Sedakova

Thursday, 25 September 2008

Δύο Ήλιοι - Two Suns



Δύο Ήλιοι παγώνουν-Θεέ μου,διαμαρτύρομαι-
Ένας στόν ουρανό,ο άλλος στο στέρνο μου.


Πώς τούς δύο Ήλιους-μπορούσε η συνείδηση μου να ξεχνά
Πώς τούς δύο ήλιους,που ανέκαθεν μέ τρέλλαιναν!

Καί οι δύο παγώνουν τώρα,-οι αχτίδες δεν πληγώνουν τα μάτια σου!
Αυτός πού πιότερο έκαιγε είναι αυτός πού πρώτος πεθαίνει.
.............................................................
Two suns are cooling down, - God, I protest! -

One is in the sky, the other - in my chest.

How these two suns - could my conscience forget? -

How these two suns were always driving me mad!

Both cooling now, - their rays won’t hurt your eyes!
The one that burned the hottest is the first to die.
...........................................................
Два солнца стынут,- о Господи, пощади!- /Одно - на небе, другое - в моей груди./
Как эти солнца,- прощу ли себе сама?-/Как эти солнца сводили меня с ума!
И оба стынут - не больно от их лучей!/И то остынет первым, что горячей.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Grey Hairs

These are ashes of treasures:
Of hurt and loss.
These are ashes in face of which
Granite is dross.

Dove, naked and brilliant,

It has no mate.
Solomon's ashes
Over vanity that's great.
Time's menacing chalkmark,

Not to be overthrown.

Means God knocks at the door
-Once the house has burned down!
Not choked yet by refuse,
Days' and dreams' conqueror.
Like a thunderbolt -- Spirit
Of early grey hair.
It's not you who've betrayed me
On the home front, years.
This grey is the triumph
Of immortal powers.


Marina Ivanova Tsvetaeva

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

Sunbeam - Ηλιαχτίδα


I pray to the sunbeam
from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.

Since morning
I have been silent,

And my heart - is split.
The copper on my wash stand

Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it

So charmingly.
How innocent it is,
and simple,
In the evening calm,
But to me in this deserted temple
It's like a golden celebration,
And a consolation.
...........................
Προσεύχομαι στήν ηλιαχτίδα απ'το παράθυρο- / Είναι χλωμή,λεπτή,κάθετη./
Απ'το πρωί είμαι σιωπηλή,
/ κι'η καρδιά μου-είναι κομμάτια. / Ο χαλκός
στό πλυσταριό μου/
Έχει πρασινίσει, / μα η ηλιαχτίδα παιχνιδίζει πάνω του,/
Τόσο χαριτωμένα. /
Πόσο αθώα είναι και απλή, / στήν γαλήνη
τού απογεύματος,
/ Αλλά γιά μένα σ'αυτόν τον έρημο ναό / μοιαζει να είναι
μιά χρυσή γιορτή,/
Καί μιά παρηγοριά...

Anna Akhmatova

Monday, 22 September 2008

I Loved You Once...


Я вас любил: любовь еще, быть может
В душе моей угасла не совсем;
Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит;
Я не хочу печалить вас ничем.
Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,
То робостью, то ревностью томим;
Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно,
Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим.
.....................................


I loved you once:
perhaps that love has yet

To die down thoroughly within my soul;
But let it not dismay you any longer;
I have no wish to cause you any sorrow.
I loved you wordlessly, without a hope,
By shyness tortured, or by jealousy.
I loved you with such tenderness and candor
And pray God grants you
to be loved that way again
.
..............................................

Κάποτε σ'αγάπησα:
Ίσως η αγάπη εκείνη απέχει ακόμη
απ' το να σβήσει ολοκληρωτικά
μέσ' στην ψυχή μου'
Αλλά μην σε εμποδίζει άλλο'

Επιθυμία καμμία δεν έχω
θλίψη να σού προκαλώ.
Σ'αγάπησα
όσο δεν μαρτυρούν οι λέξεις,
δίχως ελπίδα,
βασανισμένος από ντροπή,
ή από ζήλια.
Σ'αγάπησα με τρυφεράδα περισσή
καί ευθύτητα
Κι'απλά προσεύχομαι
να σ'αξιώσει ο Θεός,
έτσι ξανά να αγαπηθείς.



Alexander Pushkin

Saturday, 20 September 2008

Άρτεμις


Εις τήν εβένινη την πλώρη
γυμνή σιμώνει κατ' εμέ Άδωνι κόρη.
Μ'ανέμισμα φωτιάς κι' αβύζαχτο φεγγάρι
μήν είναι τούτη ευμορφιά κι' ολόδροσο θυμάρι;

Κι'όσο το κύμα μαλθακό ηχιό χαράς αφήνει
κείνη θαρρώ γοργόνα γένηκε απ' τού αφρού τη μήνι.
Πόθε στεριανέ γιγάντωσε και λούσου απ' ασήμι
κι' απ' τής καρδιάς τα διάσελα βρυχήσου σαν αγρίμι!

Θε να διαβώ την πυλωτή τ'ονείρου
περιχαράκωμα ψυχής στα όρια τ'απείρου.
Κι'ας προσαράξει μονομιάς το σώμα της το άγιο
μες στής μοναχικής καρδιάς τ'αφώτηγο μουράγιο.

Είναι βραδιές πού θα θελα αναίτια να κυλήσω
στην κορυφή τού κυματος Εκείνη ν'αγαπήσω.
Κι'όσο το σώμα θα συσπάται ανταριασμένο
εγώ μονάχος θα μετρώ καθ'άστρο αναμμένο.

Panagiotis Xourafas

Friday, 19 September 2008

Just Walk Beside Me...


Don't walk behind me;
I may not lead.
Don't walk in front of me;

I may not follow.
Just walk beside me

and be my friend.
........................................................
Μήν περπατάς πίσω μου,
γιατί μπορεί να μήν σε οδηγήσω.
Μήν περπατάς εμπρός μου,
γιατί μπορεί να μήν σε ακολουθήσω.
Περπάτα δίπλα μου,
και γίνε φίλος μου.

Albert Camus

Thursday, 18 September 2008

Fire And Ice


Some say the world
will end in fire;

Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.




Robert Frost

Monday, 15 September 2008

Εμείς Kαί Αυτοί - Us And Them


Εμείς,
Εμείς έχουμε

Την χρυσή άμμο τής ερήμου

-είναι δική μας.
Τον Ήλιο τον πυρρό

-ειναι δικός μας.

Την δίψα πού μάς καίει

-είναι δική μας.

Την μελαγχολία τού δειλινού

-είναι δική μας.

Την γαλήνη τού πρωινού

-είναι δική μας.

Την αγάπη,
διασμένη στο στήθος τής μάνας

-είναι δική μας.

Εμείς έχουμε
Την Ελπίδα.
Εσείς,

Εσείς τι έχετε;

Τι είναι δικό σας;
..........................................................

We,
We have
Golden desert sand
-it is ours.
The blazing sun
-it is ours.
Thirst burning us
-it is ours.
Melancholy of the evening
-it is ours.
Serenity of the morning
it is ours.
Love,by mother's tender breast
it is ours.
We have Hope.
You,
What you do have?
What is yours?


Panagiotis Xourafas

Sunday, 14 September 2008

Rainbow Eyes

She's been gone since yesterday
Oh I didn't care
Never cared for yesterdays
Fancies in the air

No sighs or mysteries
She lay golden in the sun
No broken harmonies
But I've lost my way
She had rainbow eyes
Rainbow eyes
video
Love should be a simple blend
A whispering on the shore
No clever words you can't defend
They lead to never more

No sighs or mysteries
She lay golden in the sun
No broken harmonies
But I've lost my way
She had rainbow eyes
Rainbow eyes

Summer nights are colder now
They've taken down the fair
And all the lights have died somehow
Or were they ever there

Rainbow

Thursday, 11 September 2008

Mεταφορές - Μetaphors


“Metaphors are dangerous.
Love begins with a metaphor.
Which is to say, love begins at the point
when a woman enters her first word
into our poetic memory.
...........................................
"Oι μεταφορές είναι επικίνδυνες.
Ο Έρωτας αρχίζει με μιά μεταφορά.
Δηλαδή,ο Έρωτας αρχίζει στό σημείο εκείνο
που η γυναίκα εισάγει την πρώτη της λέξη,
στήν Ποιητική μας μνήμη."

Milan Kundera

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Touched By An Angel


We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

Tuesday, 9 September 2008

Τελειώνει; - Does It End?




Ένα ποίημα δεν τελειώνει ποτέ,
μόνο εγκαταλείπεται.


..............................................


A poem is never finished,
only abandoned.

Paul Valéry

Monday, 8 September 2008

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last,
wake me up when September ends

Like my fathers come to pass
seven years has gone so fast,
wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again
falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

As my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost,
wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
the innocent can never last,
wake me up when September ends

Ring out the bells again
like we did when spring began,
wake me up when September ends

Green Day

Sunday, 7 September 2008

Ένα Βλέμμα - A Glance



Στό πλακάκι περπατούσες ξυπόλυτη
όμως τα μάτια σου
πράσινοι σκαραβαίοι.
Λοξά μού έγνεψες, απολογητικά
κι' ας είχες θησαυρούς να κρέμονται
απ' τα νωπά μαλλιά.

Η θάλασσα στού Έρωτα τον αργαλειό
σέ ύφανε - εξού κι' η μεταξένια αύρα.
Ένας ποιητής θά λεγε πώς γεννήθηκες
από τα σώψυχα τού πεύκου-
δεν τα πιστεύω αυτά.Απ' την άλλη όμως
το σύμπαν κρύβει μυστήρια πολλά.

Σημασία έχει το άφθαρτο γέλιο σου.
Ολάκερο απόγεμα,το γέλιο σου.
Ολάκερη ζωή,
μιά εικόνα
κι'ας ήταν φαντασία:
Η πλημμυρίδα καί η άμποτι
απ' τό γαλαζιο παρεό σου,
καθώς δειλά προστάζανε
της νιότης σου τα κάλλη.
............................................................

You walked barefoot on the slate,
but your eyes
were green scarabs.
Slantingly you nodded,apologetically,
even though you had treasures hanging
down fresh hair.

Sea wove you in Love's weaver

and this explains your silky aura.
A poet would say you were born
inside the very soul of a pine-tree.
Don't believe that.But on the other hand,
Cosmos hides lots of mysteries.

All that matters, your incorruptible laugh.
The whole afternoon your laugh.
Whole life,                                                       

in just a picture,
even though a figment of fantasy:
The tide,coming and going away
from your azure fabric,
as ordered timidly
from the beauty of your youth.

Panagiotis Xourafas

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

She


She, may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song the summer sings
May be the chill the autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She, may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem inside her shell

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so crowded and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
But I'll remember till the day I die

She, may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough in many years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
She...


Elvis Costello