ΠΛΗΝ ΕΝΟΣ

"...Et tous seront partis
Sauf un
Qui restera toujours
Seul
Pour garder la nuit"

PIERRE REVERDY

****

CASA DO FADO

FADO

μια ταινία
του
CARLOS SAURA

ΠΟΣΑ ΚΡΥΜΜΕΝΑ ΠΟΣΑ ΜΥΣΤΙΚΑ

ΓΙΩΡΓΟΣ ΜΟΡΑΡΗΣ

ΤΟ ΑΣΘΜΑ ΤΗΣ ΜΕΔΟΥΣΑΣ

Το άσθμα της μέδουσας φωλιάζει
στ' απολιθωμένο δάσος του βυθού
και σαν δίχτυα κινούνται οι χιλιοπλεγμένες του ρίζες.
Ένας άγγελος εξολοθρευτής σαλπίζει
μέσα στην έκσταση των γυναικών.
Πόσα κρυμμένα επωάζονται
κάτω από τα πούπουλα των φτερών του
πόσα μυστικά.
Εκείνες σφίγγουν στην αγκαλιά τους ωκεανούς
αφήνοντας τ' όνομά τους
σ' όσα υποσχέθηκε κι αφαίρεσε το κύμα.

ΓΙΩΡΓΟΣ ΜΟΡΑΡΗΣ
Απο τη συλλογή ΣΥΝΑΝΑΣΤΡΟΦΕΣ ΤΗΣ ΣΙΩΠΗΣ, εκδ. Καστανιώτη, 1991

ΜΕΤΑ ΤΟΝ ΠΟΛΕΜΟ

JOTAMARIO ARBELÁEZ

DESPUÉS DE LA GUERRA

un día
después de la guerra
si hay guerra
si después de la guerra hay un día
te tomaré en mis brazos
un día después de la guerra
si hay guerra
si después de la guerra hay un día
si después de la guerra tengo brazos
y te haré con amor el amor
un día después de la guerra
si hay guerra
si después de la guerra hay un día
si después de la guerra hay amor
y si hay con qué hacer el amor


JOTAMARIO ARBELÁEZ

Η ΒΙΟΛΕΤΤΑ

Violette Nozière

(1978)

μια ταινία του CLAUDE CHABROL

Η ΤΕΧΝΗ ΤΟΥ HAJEK-HALKE

HEINZ HAJEK-HALKE (1898-1983)

ΔΕΝ ΕΧΩ ΠΟΡΤΑ

WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

CONVERSATION WITH A STONE

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I want to enter your insides,
have a look round,
breathe my fill of you."

"Go away," says the stone.
"I'm shut tight.
Even if you break me to pieces,
we'll all still be closed.
You can grind us to sand,
we still won't let you in."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I've come out of pure curiosity.
Only life can quench it.
I mean to stroll through your palace,
then go calling on a leaf, a drop of water.
I don't have much time.
My mortality should touch you."

"I'm made of stone," says the stone,
"and must therefore keep a straight face.
Go away.
I don't have the muscles to laugh."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I hear you have great empty halls inside you,
unseen, their beauty in vain,
soundless, not echoing anyone's steps.
Admit you don't know them well yourself."

"Great and empty, true enough," says the stone,
"but there isn't any room.
Beautiful, perhaps, but not to the taste
of your poor senses.
You may get to know me, but you'll never know me through.
My whole surface is turned toward you,
all my insides turned away."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I don't seek refuge for eternity.
I'm not unhappy.
I'm not homeless.
My world is worth returning to.
I'll enter and exit empty-handed.
And my proof I was there
will be only words,
which no one will believe."

"You shall not enter," says the stone.
"You lack the sense of taking part.
No other sense can make up for your missing sense of taking part.
Even sight heightened to become all-seeing
will do you no good without a sense of taking part.
You shall not enter, you have only a sense of what that sense should be,
only its seed, imagination."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I haven't got two thousand centuries,
so let me come under your roof."

"If you don't believe me," says the stone,
"just ask the leaf, it will tell you the same.
Ask a drop of water, it will say what the leaf has said.
And, finally, ask a hair from your own head.
I am bursting with laughter, yes, laughter, vast laughter,
although I don't know how to laugh."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in."

"I don't have a door," says the stone.

WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

2012

ΚΑΛΗ ΧΡΟΝΙΑ !