English

Lust for Spring

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Lust for spring
spreading all over
– memories

Επιθυμία για την άνοιξη
απλώνεται παντού
– αναμνήσεις

Se extiende por todas partes
– recuerdos

Δύο ποιήματα του Γιώργου Μαρκόπουλου

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Μια μπάντα πήγαινε σε επαρχιακό παραλιακό δρόμο.
Έπαιζε εμβατήρια. Ένα παιδάκι δεκατέσσερω χρονώ,
με φαρδύ καπέλο και παλιά ρούχα της μουσικής
που έπαιζε τρομπόνι, δεν είδε τη στροφή του δρόμου.

A band on a provincial coastal road
was performing march. A fourteen-year-old boy,
with a wide hat and old clothes for musicians
playing a trombone, didn’t see the road turn.

Επτά ποιήματα του Γιώργου Δάγλα

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Τόση έρημος,
λες,
πού πήγε;

Και τώρα δυο κόκκοι άμμου
σ’ αυτήν την κλεψύδρα…

Και τρέχεις έντρομος,
μέσα στη νύχτα
να ψάξεις το ποδήλατο
που σου κλέψανε παιδί.

Nostalgia – two poems

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We adored this Earth so, my Lord
with a love that I am afraid what is waiting us as we depart
is to find our minds thinking only of her
always running back to our own village

Φολέγανδρος

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Δεν θα το δουν τα μάτια μου
εκείνο το νησί. Δεν πρόλαβα…
Με πρόφτασε ο καιρός που χάλασε,
μ΄ εμπόδισε η φουρτούνα που έπιασε.
«Απαγορεύεται ο απόπλους».

Κι αυτή η κακοκαιρία φαίνεται
πως θα κρατάει για πάντα.
Απαγορεύεται η Φολέγανδρος για μένα,
ακόμα κι αν το επιτρέψει η μπουνάτσα
να αμολήσουν τα καράβια.

Euphemisms of an old lady

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The old lady had never learned anything else in her life except to drop blessings from her lips, as if the blessings sustained her.
Her eyelash colour faded, her face was a mass of wrinkles. ” Daughter, give me the votive candle so I may light it, and may you reign like a queen one
day”.

On Sundays, in the courtyard under the vine, they’d turn on the radio.
“Daughter, bring the radio, and may you pick up soil and have it turned to gold
in your hands”.

Oia, Santorini

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That familiar,
deep redness of the sunset:
Is it the sunset or is it blood?
A question posed by the sun, or a slaughter?

The Bookshop on Saint Andrew’s Street

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It’s no longer there…
a “We’ve Moved” sign placed up high…
some things can’t be moved immediately or afterwards
such as the pages, folded at the edges, to be read less
than to be recollected,
such as the queue in front of the cash register
such as the backbones of saints
I search for the bookshop on Saint Andrew’s Street…
terribly ill by its absence
after all, this is where the hours passed
their hours with me, and the hours search insistently
for that which can’t be moved or migrated,
which oppresses and suspends generations…