Showing posts with label Dϋsseldorf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dϋsseldorf. Show all posts
The gate to underground
Tasos Livaditis poetry
Μυστική Πύλη
Φτερούγες σάλευαν κάτω απ’ τά έπιπλα, καί στό βάθος
ο σκοτεινός καθρέφτης έκανε τά παιδιά ν’ αρρωσταίνουν συχνά,
γιατί δέν ήθελαν νά μεγαλώσουν,
η μητέρα έκλαιγε καί μέ παρακαλούσε νά κατέβω, μά εμένα
ήταν η μοίρα μου νά περπατάω στό ταβάνι, μιά μάχη δική μου,
μητέρα, όπου πάντα ο νεκρός ήμουν εγώ.
Γι’ αυτό ήξερα καί τών ουρανών τή μυστική υπόγεια πύλη.
Secret Gate
Wings stirred under the furniture and at the end of the hall
the dark mirror made the children often sick, because they
didn’t want to grow up,
mother cried and beg me to come down, but my fate was
to walk on the ceiling, my own battle, mother, where I was
the only dead.
For this I knew the subterranean secret gate of the skies.
Translation Manolis Aligizakis
taken from http://vequinox.wordpress.com/2013/02/24/tasos-livaditis-selected-poems-2%CF%84%CE%AC%CF%83%CE%BF%CF%82-%CE%BB%CE%B5%CE%B9%CE%B2%CE%B1%CE%B4%CE%AF%CF%84%CE%B7%CF%82-%CE%B5%CE%BA%CE%BB%CE%B5%CE%B3%CE%BC%CE%AD%CE%BD%CE%B1-%CF%80%CE%BF%CE%B9/
umbrellas and the man
poetry of Kavafis:
''When They Come Alive''
Try to keep them, poet,
those erotic visions of yours,
however few of them there are that can be stilled.
Put them, half-hidden, in your lines.
Try to hold them, poet,
when they come alive in your mind
at night or in the brightness of noon.
those erotic visions of yours,
however few of them there are that can be stilled.
Put them, half-hidden, in your lines.
Try to hold them, poet,
when they come alive in your mind
at night or in the brightness of noon.
(C.P. Cavafy, Collected Poems. Translated by Edmund Keeley and
Philip Sherrard. Edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. Princeton
University Press, 1992)
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Φρ. Νιτσε
Φρ. Νιτσε











