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.

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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.

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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.

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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”.

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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…

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Oath / Όρκος

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He stood at the edge of the old castle’s parapet
below it the hungry abyss and
even lower the gleaming sea
ready to splash its first wave
onto the yellow soft sandy beach

when he raised his arm
as if taking an oath
as if promising to come back
at another time when we’d need
one to stand against
the greed and gluttony of the few
who comfortable and fat
dwelled in their satiation.

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Kiki Dimoula/Κική Δημουλά

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Draw two columns
one for the day’s gains
and one for its losses.

The serious concepts
your bright thoughts and readings
your from one side to the other
unsparing passages
mark on the column of the gains.

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Dimitris LIantinis’ “HOUR OF THE STARS”

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Ὁδηγητής τῶν ἑφτά βοδιῶν
πού λειβαδεύουν στό βιλαέτι τῆς ἔγνοιας σου
ἀθροίζεις τόν ἕωλο αἰῶνα.
Ἔχτισες τά σύνορα τοῦ ἀγῶνα σου
μέ τέσσερες σταγόνες παγωμένου ἱδρῶτα
σέ σχῆμα λάβαρου σταυροφόρων.
Ὦ Ἀλκάλουροψ,
πλοηγέ τοῦ γέλιου τῶν παιδιῶν
καί ἀλφαβητάρι τῶν γερόντων.

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Final Agreement

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When rain struck the window with one of its fingers
the window opened inward. Deep inside
an unknown person, a sound – your voice?
Your voice distrusted your ear. The next day
the sun went down the fields, like a descent of farmers
with scythes and pitchforks. You too went out to the street

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Eleni

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Sometimes past midnight the rhythmic hooves of horses
are heard from down the road of a delayed carriage as if
returning
from a mourning matinee of some rundown neighborhood
theater
with its plaster fallen off the ceiling, with the peeling walls
with a huge discolored red curtain drawn
that has shrunk from so many washings and in the gap
it leaves under it
you could see the bare feet of the stage manager or the
electrician
who perhaps rolls up a paper forest to turn off the lights.

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Escape

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He sat on the stool by the front yard, his hands so clumsy, they had
already overtaken us “someday they will demolish the house”, he says
to me, and they’ll discover it”
and every so often at the far end of the room someone wrapped around
him a bed-sheet, it was the time he escaped, until the bed-sheet fell
empty on the floor and we had a friend forever,

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The Nails

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Sometimes, that special hour, I think of narrating all the details:
how, for example, this incurable disease started on the opposite wall
or about that woman in the park, whose body was nailed on the bench,
and I say this without exaggeration, the nails protruded from her cloths
like small buttons, while her purse with her identity card floated down…

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The Visitor’s Letter

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Suddenly on an autumn day he left, on the table he left a letter
“don’t send me away” it read and spoke of a deep inhabitable
emotion; in the house all the lights were turned on that I wouldn’t
understand, that perhaps, he had never come, while next to the letter
he had left the mystery of his death, already covered by cobwebs…

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The Bride of Abydos

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Know ye the land of the cedar and vine?
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine,
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o’er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;

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The Third Man

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Then the other one came, he carried an old ravished valise,
in which he hid all the ghosts of his life, that they never needed
chase after him,
we were in the same stuffy room and the large animal sawn
on the carpet was already biting our knees,
“mother”, I asked at some-time, “where can we find some water for
my horse?”, “but I don’t see any horse”, “you too, mother!”,

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