ΜΟΝΟ ΣΤΟ ΜΑΡΑΘΩΝΑ
Φλόγες μ ανάστημα κυπαρισσιών
ξεφύτρωναν απ τις κορφές
του Πενταδάχτυλου
λες και τέντωνε το ανάστημά του
ν’ αντικρίσει μισοπέλαγα
τον ερχομό του Κίμωνα.
Οι ώρες φορτωμένες ουρλιαχτά
σαν εκπνοές της κόλασης,
μα οι στρατηγοί κουφάθηκαν
από τα κουδουνίσματα
των παρασήμων τους
και η ακρόπολη φευγάτη
σε άλλες εποχές.
Μόνο στο Μαραθώνα
ένα άγαλμα αρχαίου Έλληνα
έψαχνε μανιασμένο στα ερείπια
τα σπασμένα του χέρια.
(c) Michael Pais
You’re a silent picture of profound green
offered to a man sublime
instantly adorned in the nick of time
by the morning dew…
But this silent picture of profound blue
thoughts that pitched to a last goodbye
leaving loose all threads in a mystic vie
to a lucky few…
Whilst this silent picture of profound red
a remarkable detachment
in the tenet pure attachment
lives anew…
Oh my silent picture of profound white
coming constantly aberrant and fragile
as eliciting a smile
all from me to you…
We were ready to merge but she stopped me.
‘I haven’t finished looking at you,’ she said.
Dazed in her aura
She saw her image stamped deep
On my molten heart.
Caught licking my dry upper lip
She caressed my burning cheeks.
I was like a rock in the sea beaten
By the waves of desire from every side.
Defenceless I was thinking that
All things are susceptible to Love:
Fire, water even the polar caps.
You might think I’m weak but am not.
Because no one ever has and no one ever will
Escape love not while there is beauty
And not while eyes can see.
Nicholas Fourikis
Σαν ταξιδιώτες μιας ενδόμυχης ανάγκης
Και σαν αδάμαστοι του Οδυσσέα γόνοι
Ψάχναμε συμφιλίωση με τη θεά Κίρκη
Σε κάποια χώρα να μας δεχτεί συντροφιαστά
Ν’ αποδημήσουμε.
Σαν ταξιδιώτες υπερπόντιας εκστρατείας
Με Θουκυδίδη και Καβάφη παραμάσχαλα
Απ’ την Ιθάκη μας κινήσαμε να φύγουμε,
Κι εκεί που φτάσαμε μας οδηγούσε πεθυμιά
Τόσο παμπάλαια.
Το πώς θα ζήσουμε δεν φοβηθήκαμε
Στο ενσυνείδητο κατάρτι της φυγής δεμένοι
Η κάθ’ ελπίδα χαραγμένο όνειρο των Σάρδεων
Να καίει αδιάκοπα όπως προφήτεψαν Βραγχίδες
Τον πόθο μες στα μάτια μας.
Σήμερα λάγνοι ταξιδιώτες με προνόμια,
Σε θάλασσες αράξαμε που γέμισαν με πλοία,
Κι οι Πέρσες φάνηκαν μιλιούνια στον ορίζοντα
Αναζητώντας από μας την ‘γην και ύδωρ’.
Τώρα τι κάνουμε;
Ποιο άμοιρο συμπόσιο πλέον θα μας χορτάσει
Για να ορμήσουμε ακάθεκτοι επάνω στους βαρβάρους;
Οι αλαλαγμοί πού θ’ ακουστούν της μάχης
Μιας μάχης άνισης: Ελελέυ, Ελελέυ !
Τώρα θα μας σκεπάσουν;
Άραγε κείνη τη δίψα μας κορέσαμε
Των χρυσοφόρων Μήδων τη δύναμη π’ αναζητήσαμε;
Πίνοντας στην πηγή της Κασσοτίδος να διαπρέψουμε
Μήπως μόνο μια αλλαγή στο όνομα κερδίσαμε
Γραμμένο με χρυσά σ’ ένα κιβούρι;
(από τη συλλογή “Μεμπτή Αληγορία” – (c) Ιάκωβος Γαριβάλδης)
στίχοι ποι αφαιρέθηκαν
Ελλήνων προμαχούντες, μη γενναίοι
Ορμές στιγνής κι ακαταμάχητης βιασύνης
Πέρ’ από ρήτρα μιας ασώματης ανάγκης
Εκεί που φτάσαμε μπουνάτσες πια δεν βρήκαμε
Και οι σειρήνες ας ακούγονται γλυκές
Τη μοναξιά την έπιασα παρέα
μιλήσαμε για τα παλιά και τα ωραία
για τη ζωή που πολεμάμε και
για τους σταυρούς που κουβαλάμε
Της χάιδεψα λιγάκι τα μαλλιά
κι αυτή με κοίταξε με μάτια λαμπερά
με τράβηξε απ’ το χέρι ..
“μείνε κοντά μου εσύ, κανένας δεν με θέλει”
Σε ύψη ανεβήκαμε αντάμα
σε τόπους που για χρόνια έκανα τάμα
μαζί τραβήξαμε χωρίς μιλιά
επάνω στο χαρτί μια πινελιά
Μαζί διαβήκαμε τ’ ονείρου τη σπηλιά
για να μας πάει σε πελάγη μακρυνά
“έλα παρέα έλα…..
γέλα γλυκειά μου, γέλα…”
Τη μοναξιά την πότισα το νέκταρ των Θεών
γουλιά, γουλιά και ύμνο στο Δημιουργό
και στου Νταλάρα το ρεμπέτικο
ρίξαμε και δυό στροφές απο ζεϊμπέκικο!
Τα όνειρα στήσανε τρελλό χορό
στο ξεραμένο περιβόλι
κι οι πεταλούδες κούνησαν
τα τσαλακωμένα φτερά τους
Τραγούδι τρελλό ακούστηκε
ξεφάντωμα παντού
χέρι-χέρι φέρνουν κύκλους
στην κοιμισμένη ψυχή
Με χίλια χρώματα στα φτερά
κόκκινα, κίτρινα, πράσινα
κι άλλα… κι άλλα…
δραπετεύουν απ τη φυλακή
Άνοιξαν οι πόρτες της ψυχής
φάνηκε ήλιος φωτεινός
το φως δυνατό στα μάτια τους
κρυώνουν ακόμα…
Μα ατενίζουν με πίστη το Αύριο!
I came from the outside world,
Entered your world, for one brief moment
Felt the impact of your glance, your smile;
Knew for that moment in time there was you and me only,
Acceptance was felt, two souls reaching.
I went away, thought of you in the dark hours of the night,
Wondered why you engaged my curiosity,
And why I was compelled to return to your side.
The night was warm, the atmosphere inviting,
The red velvet lounge, elegant grand, and you.
Yes, you.
You sat with fingers flowing over the white keyboard,
Harmony of motion, one with life, you felt the ebb and flow.
Shyness overcame me, I dare not trespass on your ground
For fear you may reject me,
Was I just one more face, or was it real with you?
My being would not cease to call you,
I tried to ignore your presence;
Then you stopped playing and came over to me.
My soul rejoiced to find you were more than I had hoped,
So close to me, to recognise your soul in those few words,
Existing, being for my soul to meet.
I did not want to question worldly states, your wife,
Your life, your wage,
There was only now, a glimpse of life’s fulfilment felt.
__________
“Australia is in the midst of a languages crisis: too few Australians are enrolling to study languages other than English.
According to a new report prepared by Griffith University, our reluctance to embrace language learning could end up costing Australia dearly...”
This report on ABC Book Show, July 24, 2009 is of extreme importance for those who write in languages other than English. It discusses the need for Australia to embrace other languages as a means of expression and literature.
Sometime ago we had created the link to the audio file here for further valuable information to our writers which will help them enormously in forming links with the wider Australian authors and writers community.
Here was the actual audio file, follow this link. However we think they have removed it.
We would also like to use this space to make a note of Diasporic’s attempts to change this trend in Australia that writing in languages other than English is unimportant. Too many stories have already been lost in the settlement of migrants to this country. The longer we leave this question unanswered the poorer Australian literature and history is.
In September 2010 we wrote a letter to the Director of the Victorian Writers’ Centre Mr Roderick Poole. The letter explained the reasons behind our concerns. The letter proposed a number of things that need to be acted on in order to enhance exposure for other language literature in Australia.
Mr Iakovos Garivaldis then discussed the same issues with the Chairman of the Victorian Multicultural Commission, Mr George Lekakis, at their meeting on 7th October 2010. Mr Lekakis vowed his support if and when it was needed.
At the beginning of October 2010 Mr R. Poole invited Mr Iakovos Garivaldis to his office and the meeting took place on October 25th where all the possibilities were discussed. Mr Poole showed quite a bit of interest but it is sentiments and trends that need to be changed; and this is a mamoth task.
Mr Iakovos Garivaldis also sent a letter to Mr Stefan Romaniw, Chairman of Arts Victoria, after discussing the matter briefly with him in a meeting. Below we include the letter to Mr Romaniw.
At the beginning of November 2010 Mr Garivaldis has also approached Mr Steve Grimwade, Director of the Melbourne Writers’ Festival via email. However no response was received by his office to date.
On November 14th Mr Garivaldis spoke to the Honorable Member for Northern Metropolitan Region, Jenny Mikakos MP and forwarded the original proposal letter to her. The MP showed tremendous support and wrote a letter of her own to the Minister for the Arts in Victoria Mr Peter Bachelor on 17th November 2010. Here is a copy of that letter.
On 24th November 2010, Mr Poole replied with this letter after a preliminary research done by Mr Garivaldis for groups of writers in languages other than English in Victoria, which was forwarded to Mr Poole.
Eventually a meeting was arranged by the Victorian Writers’ Centre on November 6th 2011. There were about 25 attendees to this meeting which resulted in several ideas being expressed. These ideas were warmly welcomed by Mr Roderick Poole together with a promise to quickly act on them.
At this meeting writers who also write in languages other than English have been branded NESB writers (Non-English Speaking Writers), a term which was not widely accepted by the participants. New moves were then pursued to place a fitting name to this group of Multilingual Victorian Writers. Some of the proposals were –
