Author: vequinox
Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I
Memory of One Night
The one-horse carriage was crossing the bridge The solemn
woman
was holding something like a watering can or bouquet The man
seemed to be angry he yelled something On top of the hill
thick smoke and fires rose The arsonists entered
our houses slept in our own beds
and outside in the garden we the innocent listened to their
snoring
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Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy
First Narrative
ARRIVAL
The public roads, capes, forests,
rocks are ours. We’re arriviste always
moving. Homes and fireplaces are meant
for others.
Ibsen
A gypsy nursed him; for this he has wings
Serbian song
Deep darkness is flooded
by a fine whiteness that
resembles the night: this
was my mind’s first dawn
and during the honey-coloured hour
something caressing had
spread softer than
smooth breeze when
it came filled with balsam
of the morning green forests
smoother than soft breeze
and it was in a faraway
land the spring of peoples
and ages: in Thrace.
George Seferis – Collected Poems
On A Ray Of Winter Light
5
What turbid river has engulfed us?
We remained in the depths.
The current flows over our heads
and bends the speechless canes;
the voices
under the chestnut tree turned into pebbles
that the children throw.
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Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy
Ο Δωδεκάλογος του Γύφτου του Κωστή Παλαμά σε μετάφραση μου για πρώτη φορά στη Β. Αμερική. Το πιο δύσκολο έργο που έχω μεταφράσει ποτέ. Παρ’ όλα αυτά το αποτέλεσμα είναι υπέροχο όσο και το πρωτότυπο. /// The Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy, by Kostis Palamas, in my translation for the first time in N. America; the most difficult translation I’ve ever done. Yet the end result stands as gracefully and as beautifully as its original.
Της εξήγησα
Diane Di Prima, Revolutionary Letter # 100
Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II
Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
Alibi
I couldn’t understand one thing and I hope you wouldn’t
either because exactly at the appropriate time someone
opened the door and they all left one by one. I was alone.
“Even this is an alibi, but to exonerate who?”
I stammered.
This has been my story. Now, serene, I sit in my room
like a man who has left everything behind and expects
nothing and he’s all alone and his only power is that
he has no power at all.
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Ithaca Series, Poem #673
Painting by Adina Romanescu
And If Love Were Right? …
Love, love, love! Always love!
Everyone seeks it from the first sigh.
But love comes when one doesn’t expect it any longer
and then leaves without ever warning.
Is one right to play hide-and-seek
with our soul? To open for us the skies
when the earth is too small in our eyes
and then takes our hearts as haven?
Or else,
would it be wrong
to teach us that death
is the very last season …
And if love were right?
Paula Romanescu, Romania
ΚΙ ΑΝ ΕΙΝΑΙ Η ΑΓΑΠΗ ΑΛΗΘΙΝΗ;
Αγάπη, αγάπη, αγάπη, πάντα η αγάπη
που όλοι ποθούν στο πρώτο στεναγμό
μα η αγάπη έρχεται όταν δεν την περιμένεις πια
και φεύγει δίχως αντίο.
Είναι σωστό να παίζει το κρυφτό
με την ψυχή μας; Τον ουρανό να μας χαρίζει
όταν η γη είναι μικρή στα μάτια μας
και να απαγάγει τις καρδιές μας στον Παράδεισο;
Ή θα `ταν άραγε λάθος
να μας διδάσκει
πως ο θάνατος είναι
η τελευταία εποχή;
Κι αν η αγάπη είναι αληθινή;
Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη//Translation by Manolis Aligizakis
Hellenic Canadian Literature 