Shoes
Who eliminated the people
from the street?
Shoes have remained in the pavements
By habit, they copy
the movement, they walk
They are led to the pedestrian crossings,
stop at the traffic lights
and then they keep on.
The entire city chrap-chroup
Chrap chroup
swallowed the language of noise.
No-one had anything
to say beforehand.
Nikiforos Vrettakos
Υour Small Town
Truly, you couldn't possibly leave behind the time
you were afraid of the wolf and you were anxiously awaited the angel.
You studied the customs and traditions of history,
you passed under the arrows of contemporary events,
you've traveled... and yet you couldn't cast off
the small town of your childhood from your innermost,
the town made up of kind faces, bare or verdant plains, celestial things,
along with the esteemed old man sated with reflection and perception,
and high up, Taygetos, zooming proudly.
Truly, how smugly you would've felt if only you could,
turning your back to gigantic cities, had returned
to the things that were given to you and had weaved
your beautiful dream, if you had returned
to the hill where you sat , at one time, and reigned in peace,
...Returned under their gleeful glances
to gather your evening wood.
Truly, you couldn't possibly leave behind the time
you were afraid of the wolf and you were anxiously awaited the angel.
You studied the customs and traditions of history,
you passed under the arrows of contemporary events,
you've traveled... and yet you couldn't cast off
the small town of your childhood from your innermost,
the town made up of kind faces, bare or verdant plains, celestial things,
along with the esteemed old man sated with reflection and perception,
and high up, Taygetos, zooming proudly.
Truly, how smugly you would've felt if only you could,
turning your back to gigantic cities, had returned
to the things that were given to you and had weaved
your beautiful dream, if you had returned
to the hill where you sat , at one time, and reigned in peace,
...Returned under their gleeful glances
to gather your evening wood.
Manolis Anagnostakis
The Morning
In the morning
at 5
the dry
metallic echo
after the loaded trucks
that shattered the doors of sleep.
And the final "adieu" of the day before
and the final steps on the damp tiles
and your last letter
in the arithmetic notebook
from your childhood
like the grill on the small window
which slides up the parade of the morning's
joyous sun with perpendicular black lines.
In the morning
at 5
the dry
metallic echo
after the loaded trucks
that shattered the doors of sleep.
And the final "adieu" of the day before
and the final steps on the damp tiles
and your last letter
in the arithmetic notebook
from your childhood
like the grill on the small window
which slides up the parade of the morning's
joyous sun with perpendicular black lines.
Ioannis G. Tsitsos
The Future Of The Earth
The loneliness will come
wherever you go.
In the shadow of fault
flicker the future of this world.
Those, who know, keep quiet.
Poet's pen, wounds open,
the way it's seeking justice.
Give us back our mother.
Give us back the Earth,
That with the sweet warmth
of heaven, infinitely,
constantly, get us ahead.
The loneliness will come
wherever you go.
In the shadow of fault
flicker the future of this world.
Those, who know, keep quiet.
Poet's pen, wounds open,
the way it's seeking justice.
Give us back our mother.
Give us back the Earth,
That with the sweet warmth
of heaven, infinitely,
constantly, get us ahead.
George K. Stasinopoulos
Theodora
Naked,
without track of shame
- without titles and names -
Theodora,
sucked insatiably the Spring.
The smell of earth
disturbed her
and she long for you.
Naked,
without track of shame
- without titles and names -
Theodora,
sucked insatiably the Spring.
The smell of earth
disturbed her
and she long for you.
Zacharoula Gaitanaki
Greek Landscapes
Landscapes of my country, full of Light and Color.
I keep in mind Memories, in my fistful some native soil.
I walk on your ways, my Greece, and gaze greedily
I lock you up inside me.
I get across the extremityof the end.
To see the Light of your Sun and to enjoy the Sunset.
On untrodden desert islands, my steps sound
joining seabirds's fate.
Landscape blue, greek, beloved places.
Seaworth ships, "Sophia", "Giorgis", "Merope".
The waters of your rivers, murmur songs.
Hymns, for you, my country, the nightingales whisper.
The humble wild flowers, that grow on your earth
scatter a soft fragrance, wayfarer, on your touch.
Basil and velvet, myrtles and lilies.
Evident expression of holiday on childlike hands.
I pass and I dream, I remember and I weep.
In my mind, Light and Colors I add up with generosity.
Spreads of earth of my country' monuments of History.
Human destiny's distinctive symbols.
Temples, burial vaults, ancient ornaments,
theatres, columns, stadiums.
Uncultivated fields and small villages empty...
Landscapes of my country, overloaded with Memories.
I balance on their moderation the rhymes of my pen.
Landscapes of my country, full of Light and Color.
I keep in mind Memories, in my fistful some native soil.
I walk on your ways, my Greece, and gaze greedily
I lock you up inside me.
I get across the extremityof the end.
To see the Light of your Sun and to enjoy the Sunset.
On untrodden desert islands, my steps sound
joining seabirds's fate.
Landscape blue, greek, beloved places.
Seaworth ships, "Sophia", "Giorgis", "Merope".
The waters of your rivers, murmur songs.
Hymns, for you, my country, the nightingales whisper.
The humble wild flowers, that grow on your earth
scatter a soft fragrance, wayfarer, on your touch.
Basil and velvet, myrtles and lilies.
Evident expression of holiday on childlike hands.
I pass and I dream, I remember and I weep.
In my mind, Light and Colors I add up with generosity.
Spreads of earth of my country' monuments of History.
Human destiny's distinctive symbols.
Temples, burial vaults, ancient ornaments,
theatres, columns, stadiums.
Uncultivated fields and small villages empty...
Landscapes of my country, overloaded with Memories.
I balance on their moderation the rhymes of my pen.
Panagiota Christopoulou Zaloni
By Fire
Your courage went to
the limits of craziness.
You decided mindlessly
to ruin "those statues"
"by fire"
You committed
an unworthy act...
I didn't have time to hide the statues
Least of all the one of Motherhood
You destroyed it awfully
"by fire".
Your courage went to
the limits of craziness.
You decided mindlessly
to ruin "those statues"
"by fire"
You committed
an unworthy act...
I didn't have time to hide the statues
Least of all the one of Motherhood
You destroyed it awfully
"by fire".
Spiros Kitsinelis
Mermaid Cry
I hear the voices of mermaids at the sea
crying for the loss of love and life,
dreaming of a land where they'll be free.
Their only partner is the wreckage
of the sailors' lust and fears,
forever locked in the horizon's touch.
With dimming lights ornamenting the passing hope
and forming eyes on dormant rocks,
when night has fallen and work can stop.
This darkness merges in an eternal play
the starless heavens with Neptune's world,
while demons surface until the light of day.
This cry I am hearing comes from within
for there's no creature that could exist,
without reflecting man's soul or sin.
I hear the voices of mermaids at the sea
crying for the loss of love and life,
dreaming of a land where they'll be free.
Their only partner is the wreckage
of the sailors' lust and fears,
forever locked in the horizon's touch.
With dimming lights ornamenting the passing hope
and forming eyes on dormant rocks,
when night has fallen and work can stop.
This darkness merges in an eternal play
the starless heavens with Neptune's world,
while demons surface until the light of day.
This cry I am hearing comes from within
for there's no creature that could exist,
without reflecting man's soul or sin.
Dimitris P. Kraniotis
Illusions
Noiseless wrinkles
on our forehead
the frontiers of history,
shed oblique glances
at Homer’s verses.
Illusions
full of guilt
redeem
wounded whispers
that became echoes
in lighted caves
of the fools and the innocent.
Noiseless wrinkles
on our forehead
the frontiers of history,
shed oblique glances
at Homer’s verses.
Illusions
full of guilt
redeem
wounded whispers
that became echoes
in lighted caves
of the fools and the innocent.
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