CAVAFY//ΚΑΒΑΦΗΣ

c-p-cavafy

ΓΙΑ ΝΑΡΘΟΥΝ

Ένα κερί αρκεί. Το φώς του αμυδρό
αρμόζει πιο καλά, θάναι πιο συμπαθές
σαν έρθουν της Αγάπης, σαν έρθουν η Σκιές.
Ένα κερί αρκεί. Η κάμαρη απόψι
να μην έχει φως πολύ. Μέσα στην ρέμβην όλως
και την υποβολή, και με το λίγο φώς—
μέσα στην ρέμβην έτσι θα οραματισθώ
για νάρθουν της Αγάπης, για νάρθουν η Σκιές.

SO THEY WILL COME

One candle is enough its dim light
will be more suitable hospitable
when the shadows come, the shadows of Love.

One candle is enough. Tonight the room
should not have too much light. Deep in reverie,
in subjection, and in the low light—
completely in reverie I shall envisage
the coming of the shadows, the shadows of Love.
~ΚΑΒΑΦΗ-ΠΟΙΗΜΑΤΑ, μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη
~CAVAFY-POEMS, translated by Manolis Aligizakis
http://www.libroslibertad.ca

Advertisements

Yannis Ritsos//Γιάννης Ρίτσος

ritsos front cover

ΓΥΝΑΙΚΕΣ

Είναι πολύ μακρινές οι γυναίκες. Τα σεντόνια τους μυρίζουν κα-
ληνύχτα.
Ακουμπάνε το ψωμί στο τραπέζι για να μη νιώσουμε πως λείπουν.
Τότε καταλαβαίνουμε πως φταίξαμε. Σηκωνόμαστε απ’ την καρέ-
κλα και λέμε:
“Κουράστηκες πολύ σήμερα” ή “άσε, θ’ ανάψω εγώ τη λάμπα”.

Όταν ανάβουμε το σπίρτο, εκείνη στρέφει αργά πηγαίνοντας
με μιαν ανεξήγητη προσήλωση προς την κουζίνα. Η πλάτη της
είναι ένα πικραμένο βουναλάκι φορτωμένο με πολλούς νεκρούς—
τους νεκρούς της φαμίλιας, τους δικούς της νεκρούς και τον δικό σου.

Ακούς το βήμα της να τρίζει στα παλιά σανίδια
ακούς τα πιάτα να κλαίνε στην πιατοθήκη κ’ ύστερα ακούγεται
το τραίνο που παίρνει τους φαντάρους για το μέτωπο.

WOMEN

Women are very distant. Their bed sheets smell
of goodnight.
They place the bread on the table so that we won’t miss them.
Then we understand we did something wrong. We get up
from the chair saying:
“You are very tired today” or “don’t worry, let me light the lamp.”

When we strike the match, she turns slowly going to
the kitchen with an inexplicable concentration. Her back
is a sad little mountain loaded with many dead –
the family dead, her dead and your death.

You hear her footsteps creaking on the old floor planks
you hear the plates crying in the plate rack and then the train
is heard carrying soldiers to the front line.
~Γιάννη Ρίτσου-ποιήματα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη
~Yannis Ritsos-Poems/translated by Manolis Aligizakis
http://www.authormanolis.wordpress.com
http://www.ekstasiseditions.com
http://www.libroslibertad.ca

THE WASTE LAND–T. S. ELIOT

waste land

There is no water, only light
~Yannis Ritsos

Here is no water but only rock
rock and no water and the sandy road
the road winding above among the mountains
which are mountains of rock without water
if there were water we should stop and drink
among the rock one cannot stop and think
sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
if there were only water amongst the rock
dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
there is not even silence in the mountains
but dry sterile thunder without rain
there is not even solitude in the mountains
but red sullen faces sneer and snarl
from doors of mud-cracked houses

if there were water

~ The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot, translated by Manolis Aligizakis

δεν υπάρχει νερό μονάχα φως
~Γιάννης Ρίτσος
Εδώ δεν υπάρχει νερό παρά μόνο βράχια
βράχια κι όχι νερό κι ο αμμώδης δρόμος
ελικωτός δρόμος ψηλά προς τα βουνά
αν υπήρχε νερό θα σταματούσαμε να πιούμε
ανάμεσα στα βράχια δεν μπορείς να σταθείς και να σκεφτείς
στεγνός ιδρώτας και τα πόδια στην άμμο
μόνο αν υπήρχε νερό ανάμεσα στα βράχια
νεκρό του βουνού το στόμα με κίτρινα δόντια που δεν φτύνουν
εδώ δεν μπορείς να σταθείς, να ξαπλώσεις ή να κάτσεις
δεν υπάρχει κάν σιωπή στα βουνά
παρά στείροι κεραυνοί δίχως βροχή
δεν έχει ούτε κάν μοναξιά στα βουνά
παρά μόνο βλοσυρά πρόσωπα χλευαστικά και γλυρίζοντα
απ’ τα πλίνθινα, ηλιοσκασμένα σπίτια

αν υπήρχε νερό

~ Από τη σειρά ποιημάτων Η ΕΡΗΜΗ ΧΩΡΑ του Τ Σ Ελιοτ, μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη

GEORGE SEFERIS-COLLECTED POEMS/Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

George Seferis_cover

THRUSH

THE LIGHT

As the years go by
the judges who condemn you multiply;
as the years go by and you speak with fewer
voices,
you see the sun with different eyes;
you know that those who stayed behind, deceived you,
delirium of the flesh, the beautiful dance
that ends in nakedness.
Like when at night you turn in the empty road
suddenly you see the eyes of an animal shine
that have already vanished, thus you feel your own eyes.
you look at the sun, then you are lost in the dark;
the Doric chiton
that your fingers touched and it swayed like the mountains,
is a marble in the light, but its head lies
in darkness.

ΚΙΧΛΗ
ΤΟ ΦΩΣ

Καθώς περνούν τα χρόνια
πληθαίνουν οι κριτές που σε καταδικάζουν
καθώς περνούν τα χρόνια και κουβεντιάζεις με λιγώτερες
φωνές
βλέπεις τον ήλιο μ’ άλλα μάτια
ξέρεις πως εκείνοι που έμειναν, σε γελούσαν
το παραμίλημα της σάρκας, ο όμορφος χορός
που τελειώνει στη γύμνια.
Όπως, τη νύχτα στρίβοντας στην έρμη δημοσιά
άξαφνα βλέπεις να γυαλίζουν τα μάτια ενός ζώου
που έφυγαν κιόλας, έτσι νιώθεις τα μάτια σου,
τον ήλιο τον κοιτάς, έπειτα χάνεσαι μες στο σκοτάδι
ο δωρικός χιτώνας
που αγγίξανε τα δάχτυλά σου και λύγισε σαν τα βουνά
είναι ένα μάρμαρο στο φως, μα το κεφάλι του είναι στο
σκοτάδι.

~Γιώργου Σεφέρη-Άπαντα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη
~George Seferis-Collected Poems/Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

http://www.libroslibertad.ca

Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems/Τάσου Λειβαδίτη-Εκλεγμένα Ποιήματα

Tasos Livaditis_Vanilla
~Love…transcendence of space and time
~Αγάπη…πέραν χρόνου και τόπου

My beloved
I love you more than I can say in words.
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 would see me sad
she would lean down and ask. What is it my boy?
I wouldn’t talk. I would only look behind her shoulder
at a world without you.
And as I played the pencil with my fingers
it was as if I learned to write songs for you.

Αγαπημένη μου
σ’ αγαπώ πιο πολύ απ’ ό,τι μπορώ να σου πω με λόγια.
Ναι, αγαπημένη μου. Πολύ πριν να σε συναντήσω
εγώ σε περίμενα. Πάντοτε σε περίμενα.
Σάν είμουνα παιδί και μ’ έβλεπε λυπημένο η μητέρα μου
έσκυβε και με ρωτούσε. Τι έχεις αγόρι;
Δε μίλαγα. Μονάχα κοίταζα πίσω απ’ τον ώμο της
έναν κόσμο άδειο από σένα.
Και καθώς πηγαινόφερνα το παιδικό κοντύλι
ήτανε για να μάθω να σου γράφω τραγούδια.

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

VERNAL EQUINOX/ΕΑΡΙΝΗ ΙΣΗΜΕΡΙΑ

frontcover07-08

vernal equinox
Visitor

That he didn’t come
though expected
leaves you with
his image lingering
in the room on the lamp
the side table
your notebook filled
with poems
about him entering
like a band of light on the wall
and illuminating
your morning making
love to you
most tenderly

suddenly his absence
intrudes more sharply

Επισκέπτης

Δεν ήρθε κι η αναμονή
που τόσο τον περίμενες
σ’ αφήνει με την εικόνα του
να φτερουγίζει στο δωμάτιο
απ’ τη λάμπα στο τραπεζάκι,
στο σημειωματάριό σου το γιομάτο
ποιήματα για κείνον,
να έρθει και να μπει
λωρίδα φως πάνω στον τοίχο
ν’ αντανακλά
τον πρωϊνό ήλιο
και να σου κάνει
έρωτα τρυφερό.

Ξάφνου η απουσία του
γίνεται τρομερά βασανιστική

~Εαρινή Ισημερία, Ενεκεν, 2011
~Vernal Equinox, Ekstasis Editions, 2011

YANNIS RITSOS-SELECTED POEMS/TRANSLATED BY MANOLIS ALIGIZAKIS

Ritsos_front large

Yannis Ritsos – Poems

A careful hand is needed to translate the poems of Yannis Ritsos, and Manolis is the ideal poet to undertake such an enormous task. Born in Crete, Manolis’s youth was intermingled with the poetry of Ritsos. Once a young man moved by the Theodorakis version of Epitaphios, he’s now a successful poet in his own right who is still moved to tears hearing the refrains of those notes from half a century ago. His Greek heritage, with its knowledge of the terrain, people, history and cultural themes, makes his translation all the more true to what Ritsos intended. Having visited the very places of which Ritsos wrote, he knows how the light and sea shift, and how Ritsos imagined those changes as being a temperament and personality of the Greece itself. The parallels in their lives are uncanny: when Ritsos was imprisoned, Manolis’ father also was imprisoned on false charges. Both men dealt with the forces of dictators and censorship, and experienced the cruel and unreasoning forces of those times. In fact, they even lived for a time in the same neighborhood. In his foreword to Poems, Manolis relates that he viewed him as a comrade, one whose “work resonated with our intense passion for our motherland and also in our veracity and strong-willed quest to find justice for all Greeks.” In Poems, Manolis chose to honor Ritsos first by not just picking and choosing a few titles to translate, although that might have been far easier. Instead, he undertook the complex task of translating fifteen entire books of Ritsos work-an endeavor that took years of meticulous research and patience. It should be noted that along with the translation, edited by Apryl Leaf, that he also includes a significant Introduction that gives a reader unfamiliar with Ritsos an excellent background on the poet from his own perspective. Dated according to when Ritsos composed them, it’s fascinating to see how some days were especially productive for him. These small details are helpful in understanding the context and meaning. For example, in Notes on the Margins of Time, written from 1938-1941, Ritsos explores the forces of war that are trickling into even the smallest villages. Without direct commentary, he alludes to trains, blood, and the sea that takes soldiers away, seldom to return. Playing an active role in these violent times, the moon observes all, and even appears as a thief ready to steal life from whom it is still new. From “In the Barracks”:

The moon entered the barracks It rummaged in the soldiers’ blankets Touched an undressed arm Sleep Someone talks in his sleep Someone snores A shadow gesture on the long wall The last trolley bus went by Quietness

Can all these be dead tomorrow? Can they be dead from right now?

A soldier wakes up He looks around with glassy eyes A thread of blood hangs from the moon’s lips

In Romiosini, the postwar years are a focus (1945-1947), and they have not been kind. The seven parts to this piece each reflect a soldier’s journey home.

These trees don’t take comfort in less sky These rocks don’t take comfort under foreigners’ Footsteps These faces don’t’ take comfort but only In the sun These hearts don’t take comfort except in justice.

The return to his country is marked by bullet-ridden walls, burnt-out homes, decay, and the predominantly female populace, one that still hears the bombs falling and the screams of the dead as they dully gaze about, looking for fathers, husbands, and sons. The traveler’s journey is marked by introspection and grim memories reflected on to the surfaces of places and things he thought he knew.

And now is the time when the moon kisses him sorrowfully Close to his ear The seaweed the flowerpot the stool and the stone ladder Say good evening to him And the mountains the seas and cities and the sky Say good evening to him And then finally shaking the ash off his cigarette Over the iron railing He may cry because of his assurance He may cry because of the assurance of the trees and The stars and his brothers

An entirely different feeling is found in Parentheses, composed 1946-1947. In it, healing is observed and a generosity of spirit exerts itself among those whose hearts had been previously crushed. In “Understanding”:

A woman said good morning to someone – so simple and natural Good morning… Neither division nor subtraction To be able to look outside Yourself-warmth and serenity Not to be ‘just yourself’ but ‘you too’ A small addition A small act of practical arithmetic easily understood…

On the surface, it may appear simple, a return to familiarity that may have been difficulty in times of war. Yet on another level, he appears to be referring to the unity among the Greek people-the ‘practical arithmetic’ that kept them united though their political state was volatile. Essentially timeless, his counsel goes far beyond nationalism.

Moonlight Sonata, written in 1956, is an impossibly romantic and poignant lyric poem that feels more like a short story. In it, a middle-aged woman talks to a young man in her rustic home. As he prepares to leave, she asks to walk with him a bit in the moonlight. “The moon is good –it doesn’t show my gray hair. The moon will turn my hair gold again. You won’t see the difference. Let me come with you”

Her refrain is repeated over and over as they walk, with him silent and her practically begging him to take her away from the house and its memories:

I know that everyone marches to love alone Alone to glory and to death I know it I tried it It’s of no use Let me come with you

The poem reveals her memories as well as his awkward silence, yet at the end of their journey, she doesn’t leave. Ritsos leaves the ending open: was it a dream? If not, why did she not go? What hold did the house have over her? Was it just the moonlight or a song on the radio that emboldened her?

In 1971, Ritsos wrote The Caretaker’s Desk in Athens, where he was under surveillance but essentially free. At this time he seems to be translating himself-that of how he was processing his own personal history. Already acclaimed for his work, perhaps he was uncertain of his own identity.

From “The Unknown”,

He knew what his successive disguises stood for (even with 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

If he is indeed discussing his identity, it’s with incredible honesty as to both his public persona and his private character. After all, he’d been nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1968 (and eight more times) and he was likely weighing, in his later years, all that he’d endured.

The beauty of this particular translation is that, while subjects and emotions change over time, they still feel united by the underlying character of Ritsos. Some translators leave their own imprint or influence, yet this feels free of such adjustment. It’s as if Ritsos’ voice itself has been translated, with the pauses, humor, and pace that identify the subtle characteristics of an individual.

~Wikipedia

Books Published in 2014

Υπερανθρωπος

10013138_10152119720724272_1720442438_n

MANOLIS-borító

Manolis-Übermensch-web

Tasos Livaditis_Vanilla

autumn leaves cover

Idolaters_cover_Jul2.indd

Τα ακόλουθα βιβλία εκδόθηκαν το 2014, δική μου ποίηση, ή μεταφράσεις μου, ή δική μου ποίηση σε ξένη μετάφραση.
The following books published in 2014 with me as poet or translator or my poetry translated in another language.

~ΥΠΕΡΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣ, BY MANOLIS, ΕΝΕΚΕΝ, ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΝΙΚΗ, 2014

~ΙΕΡΟΔΟΥΛΕΣ, BY MANOLIS, ΣΑΙΞΠΗΡΙΚΟΝ, ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΝΙΚΗ, 2014

~AUTUMN LEAVES, BY MANOLIS, EKSTASIS EDITIONS, 2014

~IDOLATERS, BY IOANNA FRANGIA, TRANSLATED BY MANOLIS, LIBROS
LIBERTAD, 2014

~TASOS LIVADITIS-SELECTED POEMS, TRANSLATED BY MANOLIS, LIBROS LIBERTAD, 201

~ESZMELET, BY MANOLIS, TRANSLATED INTO HUNGARIAN BY KAROLY CSIBY, AB-ART, BRATISLAVA SLOVAKIA, 2014

~UBERMANESCH, BY MANOLIS, TRANSLATED INTO GERMAN BY ENIKO CSEKEI THIELE, WINDROSE, AUSTRIA, 2014

George Seferis-Collected Poems/Γιώργου Σεφέρη-Άπαντα

George Seferis_cover

ΠΑΝΩ ΣΕ ΜΙΑ ΧΕΙΜΩΝΙΑΤΙΚΗ ΑΧΤΙΝΑ

Δ’
Είπες εδώ και χρόνια:
“Κατά βάθος είμαι ζήτημα φωτός.”
Και τώρα ακόμη σαν ακουμπάς
στις φαρδιές ωμοπλάτες του ύπνου
ακόμη κι όταν σε ποντίζουν
στο ναρκωμένο στήθος του πελάγου
ψάχνεις γωνιές όπου το μαύρο
έχει τριφτεί και δεν αντέχει
αναζητάς ψηλαφητά τη λόγχη
την ορισμένη να τρυπήσει την καρδιά σου
για να την ανοίξει στο φως.

ON A WINTER SUNRAY

4.

Some years ago you said
“Basically I am a matter of light.”
And still today when you lean
on the wide shoulders of sleep
even when they anchor you
to the drowsy breast of pelagos
you search in corners where blackness
has turned thin with no resistance
you grope for the spear
that spear destined to pierce your heart
and open it to the light.

~Γιώργου Σεφέρη-Άπαντα, μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη
~George Seferis-Collected Poems, translated by Manolis Aligizakis

Πάνω σε μια Χειμωνιάτικη Αχτίνα/On a Ray of Winter Light

 

ImageΠΑΝΩ ΣΕ ΜΙΑ ΧΕΙΜΩΝΙΑΤΙΚΗ ΑΧΤΙΝΑ

Είπες εδώ καί χρόνια:

“Κατά βάθος είμαι ζήτημα φωτός”.

Καί τώρα ακόμη σάν ακουμπάς

στίς φαρδιές ωμοπλάτες τού ύπνου

ακόμη κι όταν σέ ποντίζουν

στό ναρκωμένο στήθος τού πελάγου

ψάχνεις γωνιές όπου τό μαύρο

έχει τριφτεί καί δέν αντέχει

αναζητάς ψηλαφητά τή λόγχη

τήν ορισμένη νά τρυπήσει τήν καρδιά σου

γιά νά τήν ανοίξει στό φώς.

~Γιώργος Σεφέρης

ΟΝ A RAY OF WINTER LIGHT

Some years ago you said

‘Basically I am a matter of light.’

And still today when you lean

on the wide shoulders of sleep

even when they anchor you

to the drowsy breast of pelagos

you search in corners where blackness

has turned thin with no resistance

you grope for the spear

that spear destined to pierce your heart 29

and open it to the light.

~George Seferis,

Translation by Manolis Aligizakis