General/Off-topic |
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Informal Poems
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10. |
24 Dec 2005 Sat 07:13 pm |
WEDNESDAY, 8c
IF ONLY MOTHER you could see me: as I was born,
I departed. I was far too little - besides who
understands? - and far too many were the creeping
monsters with the lateral, slimy legs.
So, from the length of a life constructed with such
difficulty all that remains is a half-ruined door
and a lot of large decaying water anemones.
Therefrom I pass and proceed - who knows? - to a womb sweeter than my country.
Odysseus Elytis
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11. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 12:19 am |
Thank you very much, sophie, for your kind contribution. To be honest, this is the first time I have heard this poet, and you introduced, in a manner of speaking, Elytis to me. Thank you again.
And this poem is from Ritsos, my big passion, for you.
THE THIRD ONE
The three of them sat before the window looking at the sea.
One talked about the sea. The second listened. The third
neither spoke nor listened; he was deep in the sea; he floated.
Behind the window panes, his movements were slow, clear
in the thin pale blue. He was exploring a sunken ship.
He rang the dead bell for the watch; fine bubbles
rose bursting with a soft sound - suddenly,
"Did he drown?" asked one; the other said: "He drowned."
The third one looked at them helpless from the bottom of the sea,
the way one looks at drowned people.
Yannis RITSOS
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12. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 01:50 am |
This is my contribution for my another homeland…
"Kostas Karyotakis lived in the years after the First World War and expressed the pain of the lonely man, the pain of the melancholic spirit, with the most dramatic way.
From the depths of his soul he gave us his crying heart.
Until annihilation. Until Death..."
Tonight the moon...
Tonight the moon will fall upon
the strand, a heavy pearl.
And over me will play the mad
mad moonlight.
The ruby wave will shatter
at my feet, and scatter all the stars.
From my palms two doves
will have been born;
they'll rise -- two silver birds --,
be filled -- two cups -- with moonlight,
sprinkle moonlight on my shoulders,
on my hair.
The sea is molten gold.
I'll launch my dream to sail
upon a ca&idieresis;que. I'll tread a diamond
into gravel, glistening.
The encircling light will seem to pierce
my heart, a heavy pearl.
And I shall laugh. And then I'll weep... And there,
there's the moonlight!
Kostas Kariotakis
For more poetry of Kostas Kariotakis, this is the link:
http://users.otenet.gr/~lost/english
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13. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 01:54 am |
And this is for kardoula mou:
Down the Seashore
Watching an entire Sunset
As the colours were dying upon her eyes
Through the raving sounds of seashells
Through the marks of the wind on her body
She deeply understood
the way people set
like weak suns
like passing summers
Swallowing the pain
bearing no complain
for the coming darkness,
sacrifice.
Argyro Mantoglou
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14. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 03:37 am |
Thank you very much, Slavica, for your precious contribution. This poem is for you:
I'VE LEARNED SOME THINGS
I've learned some things from having lived:
If you're alive, experience one thing with all your power
Your beloved should be worn out from being kissed
And you should drop exhausted from the smelling of a flower
A person can gaze at the sky for hours
Can gaze for hours at a bird, a child, the sea
To live on the earth is to become part of it
To strike down roots that won't pull free
If you cling to anything, tightly hold a friend
Fight for something with every muscle, whole body, all your passion
And if you lay yourself for a time on the warm beach
Let yourself rest like a grain of sand, a leaf, a stone
To your utmost, listen to every beautiful song
As though filling all the self with sound and melody
One should plunge head-first into life
As one dives from a cliff into the emerald sea
Distant lands should draw you, people you don't know
To read every book, know other's lives, you should be burning
You shouldn't exchange for anything the pleasure of a glass of water
No matter how much the joy, your life should be filled with yearning
You should know sorrow, honorably, with all your being
Because the pains, like joys, make a person grow
Your blood should mingle in the great circulation of life
And in your veins life's endless fresh blood should flow
I've learned some things from having lived:
If you're alive, experience largely, merge with rivers, heavens, cosmos
For what we call living is a gift given to life
And life is a gift bestowed upon us
Ataol BEHRAMOĞLU
YAŞADIKLARIMDAN ÖĞRENDİĞİM BİRŞEY VAR
Yaşadıklarımdan öğrendiğim bir şey var:
Yaşadın mı, yoğunluğuna yaşayacaksın bir şeyi
Sevgilin bitkin kalmalı öpülmekten
Sen bitkin düşmelisin koklamaktan bir çiçeği
İnsan saatlerce bakabilir gökyüzüne
Denize saatlerce bakabilir, bir kuşa, bir çocuğa
Yaşamak yeryüzünde, onunla karışmaktır
Kopmaz kökler salmaktır oraya
Kucakladın mı sımsıkı kucaklayacaksın arkadaşını
Kavgaya tüm kaslarınla, gövdenle, tutkunla gireceksin
Ve uzandın mı bir kez sımsıcak kumlara
Bir kum tanesi gibi, bir yaprak gibi, bir taş gibi dinleneceksin
İnsan bütün güzel müzikleri dinlemeli alabildiğine
Hem de tüm benliği seslerle, ezgilerle dolarcasına
İnsan balıklama dalmalı içine hayatın
Bir kayadan zümrüt bir denize dalarcasına
Uzak ülkeler çekmeli seni, tanımadığın insanlar
Bütün kitapları okumak, bütün hayatları tanımak arzusuyla yanmalısın
Değişmemelisin hiç bir şeyle bir bardak su içmenin mutluluğunu
Fakat ne kadar sevinç varsa yaşamak özlemiyle dolmalısın
Ve kederi de yaşamalısın, namusluca, bütün benliğinle
Çünkü acılar da, sevinçler gibi olgunlaştırır insanı
Kanın karışmalı hayatın büyük dolaşımına
Dolaşmalı damarlarında hayatın sonsuz taze kanı
Yaşadıklarımdan öğrendiğim bir şey var:
Yaşadın mı büyük yaşayacaksın, ırmaklara,göğe,bütün evrene karışırcasına
Çünkü ömür dediğimiz şey, hayata sunulmuş bir armağandır
Ve hayat, sunulmuş bir armağandır insana
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15. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 03:52 am |
Oh, and this is for you, Cyrano… from your big passion, Ritsos:
Forgetfulness
The house with the wooden staircase and the orange trees,
facing the azure, big mountain. The countryside gently
walks around inside the rooms. The two mirrors
reflect the singing of the birds. Only
that in the middle of the bedroom lie abandoned
two fabric slippers for the old. So,
when the night falls, the dead visit the house again
in order to collect something of theirs left behind,
a scarf, a vest, a shirt, two socks
and then, possibly due to short memory or carelessness,
they take along something of ours. Next day,
the postman passes our door without stopping.
Giannis Ritsos
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16. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 09:18 pm |
Oh thank you guys so much! I had never read the poems u sent me. I m trying to find them now, written in greek.
Cyrano? What about greek Tragedies? Have you ever read any of them? I bet you would be amazed!
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17. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 09:45 pm |
Greek Tragedies? How can I forget Sophocles' tragedies? Could it be possible? Especially Antigone? My love and lover Antigone... who had revolted against the power of Creon,not having left her sister's body in the street.
And I had read the others- Oedipus Rex and Oedipus At Colonus.
I bought also the book called The Oedipus Cycle in English. But I haven't sadly read it yet.
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18. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 10:12 pm |
Dear Sophie, the pleasure is mine
And one more poem for kardoula mou and arkadaşım...
In the garden the chrysanthemums were dying...
In the garden the chrysanthemums were dying
like desires when you came. Calmly
you laughed, like little white flowers.
Silent, I made a sweetest song
out of the darkness deep within me
and the petals sing it up above you.
Kostas Kariotakis
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19. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 11:13 pm |
Quoting cyrano: Greek Tragedies? How can I forget Sophocles' tragedies? Could it be possible? Especially Antigone? My love and lover Antigone... who had revolted against the power of Creon,not having left her sister's body in the street.
And I had read the others- Oedipus Rex and Oedipus At Colonus.
I bought also the book called The Oedipus Cycle in English. But I haven't sadly read it yet. |
have you ever read Aeshylous? or Euripides? U should read Medea Such a sad story....
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20. |
25 Dec 2005 Sun 11:26 pm |
Quoting slavica: Dear Sophie, the pleasure is mine
And one more poem for kardoula mou and arkadaşım...
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