A Clockwork Orange in a paused time

Karouzos Nikos poetry

 

SUSPENSION 

To Thanos Konstantinidis

In the sky, possibilities
are naught but thrilling.
As I was hanging in the air
holding on to a pure white cloud
on a mythic screen of the imagination,
I observed the quotations
of the elements of my blood
and heard a dazzling musical act
practically non-human
on the left of the geographical map
at the point at which Mt. Terror lies
always wreathed in lightning
and blinding storms.
I went up there once.
There I first heard the song
that said: we belong to water.
And on the other side Ecclesiastes shined.
For some time now I’ve known that the blood
contains all the mystery
which is given through signs
to the human mind, and complete discontinuity.
The circulation perhaps?
queried the brilliant pathologist.
And suddenly
Leonardo came to mind
who knew what exquisite information derives from the body.

translated by Philip Ramp - Publisher: First published on PIW

S, like sea or see

 Karouzos Nikos poetry

Suspension

To Thanos Konstantinidis

In the sky, possibilities
are naught but thrilling.
As I was hanging in the air
holding on to a pure white cloud
on a mythic screen of the imagination,

I observed the quotations
of the elements of my blood
and heard a dazzling musical act
practically non-human
on the left of the geographical map
at the point at which Mt. Terror lies
always wreathed in lightning
and blinding storms.
I went up there once.
There I first heard the song
that said: we belong to water.
And on the other side Ecclesiastes shined.
For some time now I’ve known that the blood
contains all the mystery
which is given through signs
to the human mind, and complete discontinuity.
The circulation perhaps?
queried the brilliant pathologist.
And suddenly
Leonardo came to mind
who knew what exquisite information derives from the body.

Translation: Philip Ramp

-

What can a man see from up there?

Karouzos Nikos poetry
 

''POEM ON A TAPE RECORDER"

Joy of night, oh sonorous lights, 

marvelous evening

the colored noise of the city

divided up my loneliness, sometimes yellow, 

orange, blue, and now red

dyeing my gait pure green. 

Love had white marks. 

Stop. Rewind. 

The turmoil bore the white marks of the world. 

The clouds invisible. 

No. 

The angel radiates like marble

in the deserts of the moon, in the honeysuckle white

death is duped and the night

is amused with shooting stars. 

No, no. 

Time approaches visions

on tiptoe. 

Greed! 

I should have further submerged

the grief within my soul. 

No. 

The cricket ornaments expanses. 

The night comes down the stairway of darkness

sits on the passion of Mary. 

All alone the busts breathe in the gardens. 

Stop. Everything is erased. 

I want to escape from words. 

I’m sick of it. 

Better it would be to listen to what on the next balcony

two perennial old ladies are saying; 

sitting there by the hour.

Translation: Philip Ramp
Publisher: First published on PIW
http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poem/item/2606/auto/POEM-ON-A-TAPE-RECORDER

Red balloons

ΝΙΚΟΣ ΚΑΡΟΥΖΟΣ (Karouzos Nikos)

"Διερώτηση για να μην κάθομαι άεργος"

Ποτέ στ’ αλήθεια δεν το ’μαθα
τι είναι τα ποιήματα.
Είναι πληγώματα
είν’ ομοιώματα
φενάκη
φρεναπάτη;
Φρενάρισμα ίσως;
ταραχώδη κύματα;
τι είναι τα ποιήματα;
Είν’ εκδορές απλά γδαρσίματα;
είναι σκαψίματα;
Είναι ιώδιο; Είναι φάρμακα;
είναι γάζες επίδεσμοι
παρηγόρια ή διαλείμματα;
Πολλοί τα βαλσαμώνουν ως μηνύματα.
Εγώ τα λέω ενθύμια φρίκης.

(από τη συλλογή Δυνατότητες και χρήση της ομιλίας, 1979)