#Odysseas Elytis

[nireis]

The waves have heard of you, how you caress, how you kiss how you whisper the “what” and the “hey”; around the neck at the cove we were always the light and the shadow.

You always the lil’star and I the dark vessel, you always the port and I the lateral post the starboard one, the soppy wharf and the glistening on the oars.

#🐚 #nireis #Odysseas Elytis #poetry #greek poetry

[epestrefe]

Η ηλικία της γλαυκής θύμησης

Η θητεία τοῦ καλοκαιριοῦ Στὰ πεῦκα καὶ στὰ κύματα Μὲ γυμνές ὧρες Ποὺ κρατᾶν στὰ δάχτυλα τὴν ὕπαρξη Κυματιστή Ξεφυλλισμένη Ἐλεύθερη Σὰν φῶς Ὤ! λυγισμένη εὐωδιά Ἀγαθό μονοπάτι

Ὀδυσσέας Ἐλύτης «Προσανατολισμοί»

#θάλασσα #ποίημα #ποίηση #Οδυσσέας Ελύτης #Προσανατολισμοί #λέξεις #καλοκαίρι #ελυθερία #φως #greek #poem #poetry #Odysseas Elytis

[la-scigghiu]

Eravamo ti giuro allo specchio posso dirlo è successo per caso abbiamo attraversato l'istante ci siamo davvero passati davanti . devo aver visto che ti avvicinavi eri dietro di me sentivo il tuo sguardo posarsi caldo sulle mie spalle . mi hai abbracciato chiudendo gli occhi così mi hai stretto anche con gli occhi e io ti guardavo teneramente sorridere come se, lo sai tu solo come . mi avevi negli occhi io non lo so come e dentro lo specchio io tenevo noi.

.🦋.

🔸Odysseas Elytis

#i voli dell'anima 🦋 #il buongiorno oggi è poesia #mi avevi negli occhi #io tenevo noi #Odysseas Elytis

[manwalksintobar]

Marina of the Rocks  // Odysseas Elytis

You have a taste of tempest on your lips—But where did you wander All day long in the hard reverie of stone and sea? An eagle-bearing wind stripped the hills Stripped your longing to the bone And the pupils of your eyes received the message of chimera Spotting memory with foam! Where is the familiar slope of short September On the red earth where you played, looking down At the broad rows of the other girls The corners where your friends left armfuls of rosemary. But where did you wander All night long in the hard reverie of stone and sea? I told you to count in the naked water its luminous days On your back to rejoice in the dawn of things Or again to wander on yellow plains With a clover of light on you breast, iambic heroine. You have a taste of tempest on your lips And a dress red as blood Deep in the gold of summer And the perfume of hyacinths—But where did you wander Descending toward the shores, the pebbled bays? There was cold salty seaweed there But deeper a human feeling that bled And you opened your arms in astonishment naming it Climbing lightly to the clearness of the depths Where your own starfish shone. Listen. Speech is the prudence of the aged And time is a passionate sculptor of men And the sun stands over it, a beast of hope And you, closer to it, embrace a love With a bitter taste of tempest on your lips. It is not for you, blue to the bone, to think of another summer, For the rivers to change their bed And take you back to their mother For you to kiss other cherry trees Or ride on the northwest wind. Propped on the rocks, without yesterday or tomorrow, Facing the dangers of the rocks with a hurricane hairstyle You will say farewell to the riddle that is yours.                            

#poetry #Odysseas Elytis #Greek poetry #love #love poem #tempest #storms #sea #hope #Οδυσσέας Ελύτης #September

[noceiling-m]

Bent over papers and bottomless books climbing down them on a slender rope night after night I sought whiteness to the utmost intensity of blackness, hope to the point of tears, joy to the outer limit of despair

Odysseus Elytis, Axion Esti: The Genesis, VI

#odysseas elytis #odysseus elytis #axion esti #the genesis #VI #poem #verse #poetry #book #collection #translation #edmund keeley #george savidis

[inspiwriter]

Alfred R. Mitchell (1888-1972) The Garden Porch

Σ' αυτές τις κάτασπρες αυλές όπου φυσά ο νοτιάς Σφυρίζοντας σε θολωτές καμάρες, πέστε μου είναι η τρελή ροδιά Που σκιρτάει στο φως σκορπίζοντας το καρποφόρο γέλιο της Με ανέμου πείσματα και ψιθυρίσματα, πέστε μου είναι η τρελή               ροδιά                                                                                                                  

Που σπαρταράει με φυλλωσιές νιογέννητες τον όρθρο Ανοίγοντας όλα τα χρώματα ψηλά με ρίγος θριάμβου;

Οδυσσέας Ελύτης, Η Τρελή Ροδιά

In these all-white courtyards where the south wind blows Whistling through vaulted arcades, tell me, is it the mad pomegranate tree That leaps in the light, scattering its fruitful laughter With windy wilfulness and whispering, tell me, is it the mad   pomegranate tree That quivers with foliage newly born at dawn Raising high its colours in a shiver of triumph?

Odysseas Elytis, The Mad Pomegranate Tree

( Translated by:  Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard )

#alfred r. mitchell #oil on board #the garden porch #οδυσσέας ελύτης #η τρελή ροδιά #ποίηση #odysseas elytis #poetry #spring breath #spring poetry #the mad pomegranate tree

[ninac-cd]

Gift silver poem

I know that all this is worthless  and that the language

       I speak doesn't have an alphabet

       Since the sun and the waves are a syllabic script

       which can be deciphered only in the years of sorrow and exile

       And the motherland  a fresco with successive overlays

       frankish or slavic which, should you try to restore,

       you are immediately sent to prison and

       held responsible

        To a crowd of foreign Powers  always through

       the intervention of your own

         As it happens for the disasters

       But let's imagine that in an old days' threshing-floor

       which might be in an apartment-complex children

       are playing and  whoever loses

         Should, according to the rules, tell the others

       and give them a truth

         Then everyone ends up  holding in his

       hand a small

       Gift, silver poem.

Odysseas Elytis “The Tree of Light and the Fourteenth Beauty”

#odysseas elytis

[lagrimanegra]

I know that all this is worthless and that the language

I speak doesn't have an alphabet

Since the sun and the waves are a syllabic script

which can be deciphered only in the years of sorrow and exile

And the motherland a fresco with successive overlays

frankish or slavic which, should you try to restore,

you are immediately sent to prison and

held responsible

To a crowd of foreign Powers always through

the intervention of your own

As it happens for the disasters

But let's imagine that in an old days' threshing-floor

which might be in an apartment-complex children

are playing and whoever loses

Should, according to the rules, tell the others

and give them a truth

Then everyone ends up holding in his

hand a small

Gift, silver poem.

#poetry #Odysseas Elytis

[mavra-matia]

Always us the light and the shadow.

- Odysseas Elytis

#photography #35mm #35mm film #nature #vibes #grass #landscape #belgium #εγω

[nireis]

Thusly I speak of you and me;

Because I love you and in love I know to pervade as a full-Moon from everywhere, towards your slender leg under the endless sheets; to pluck jasmines; and I have the power to blow and carry you half-asleep through moonlit passages and secret sea tunnels: trees in a trance lustered by webs.

#🐚 #nireis #Odysseas Elytis #poetry #greek poetry

[epestrefe]

Η ισόβια στιγμή

Πιάσε την αστραπή στο δρόμο σου άνθρωπε· δώσε της διάρκεια· μπορείς! Από τη μυρωδιά του χόρτου από την πύρα του ήλιου πάνω στον ασβέστη από το ατέρμονο φιλί να βγάλεις έναν αιώνα· με θόλο για την ομορφιά και την αντήχηση όπου σου φέρνουν οι άγγελοι μες στο πανέρι τη δρόσο από τους κόπους σου όλο φρούτα στρογγυλά και κόκκινα· τη στενοχώρια σου γεμάτη πλήκτρα που χτυπούν μεταλλικά στον άνεμο ή σωλήνες ορθούς που τους φυσάς καθώς αρμόνιο και βλέπεις να συνάζονται τα δέντρα σου όλα δάφνες και λεύκες οι μικρές και μεγάλες Μαρίες που κανείς πάρεξ εσύ δεν άγγιξες·

Οδυσσέας Ελύτης, «Μαρία Νεφέλη», εκδ. Ίκαρος, 1978

#η ισόβια στιγμή #ποίημα #ποίηση #Οδυσσέας Ελύτης #Μαρία Νεφέλη #1978 #καρπούζια #λέξεις #καλοκαίρι #poetry #greek #odysseas elytis #summer #watermelons #black and white #old photo

[sgiandubh]

A stupid shipper's guide to the Peloponnese, part 2: Mycenae, my Craigh na Dun

Forgot to mention: Praxiteles' statue of Hermes still has faint cinnabar traces in its curls. Which makes that Hermes a ginger, hehe. You simply can't make this shit up. /end of poetic justice moment

Anyways. The very minute your car, bus or bike crosses the Corinth Canal, even if you cannot see it from the modern, German highway, you just know you are in the Peloponnese. Everything changes: the light, the landscape and even the silence. In summertime, cicadas reign supreme: mercifully, after a while, you don't hear them anymore and sleep like a log in daytime. Summer nights are always for something else, in this land.

Odysseas Elytis, my favorite Greek poet, knew something about all this:

"Drinking the sun of Corinth Reading the marble ruins Striding across vineyards and seas Sighting along the harpoon A votive fish that slips away I found the leaves that the sun’s psalm memorizes The living land that passion joys in opening."

So really, forget about the islands, spare some unsung, almost unknown gems. The heart of this country beats South of Corinth, and once you've realized this, there is no turning back.

Olympia and her little sister, Nemea, are all about joy and cheer and the sort of organized happiness the Ancient World was so adept at. But at Mycenae, we hit a different chord. It is home to this guy - the filthy rich, ruthless, rogue King Agamemnon.

"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair":

Mycenae and I go back a couple of years and too many repeated, insistent expeditions to count properly. Even Zorba the car knows the way by himself, so all I have to do is wait for the right week-end, climb at the wheel and enjoy the scenery. Many dinners in town and embassy receptions have been traded for the simple joy to be awaken by kyria Panagiota's impertinent rooster (across the street) at 5 am and open my room's French doors to this view:

A mix of olive groves and vineyards, with the odd cypress tree randomly thrown around. 354 inhabitants. Two churches. Two stone bridges, built somewhere at the narrow end of the Stone Age and still treaded by tractors, cattle and unsuspecting pedestrians. And also this:

The Lions' Gate (the real one, not TPTB related), as photographed by me the day before yesterday, for the umpteenth time, proudly standing at the end of a steep-ish climb cursed daily in tens of different languages by thousands of tourists. As for Angkor Wat, you'd have to see it at sunrise or sunset to fully get the magic, in complete silence. Patience and determination will certainly be rewarded. For this place is rich with all the memories of those who once called it home, back in the day when it was one of the most powerful political and trade centers of the known world. The Cyclopean fantasy of a demi-god, which is all about flawless ownership of space and aggressive affirmation of one's worth. Or, as the obscure Alpheus of Mytilene aptly put it in an epigram, written some time around 0, AD: "a city built by giants and passing rich in gold".

Pic taken by me in late October 2021, that blessed age of innocence when I had no frigging idea of Craigh na Dun. Different light, same arresting view that plunges all the way to Argos and farther away, to the sea.

Cats rule the world. We know that (January 2023):

And then there's the Vault, half a mile down the road. If the Lions' Gate is about Space, the incorrectly named vault - a mausoleum, really - is about Time. Or rather the complete irrelevance of it:

Because I am not only stupid, but also nuts, I sometimes flip a coin, once inside. All binary answers were proven to be eerily accurate, with time. But things like this only show themselves to the believer. Last question asked is still technically up for confirmation, yet I - along with all of you here - know already it's a yes:

And yeah, I did it. What the heck. I had the place just for myself, and that is rare. Wouldn't you?

Mordor, I don't care about your pearl-clutching reaction. There is poetry to be found in the most unlikely of places. Especially in the most unlikely of places.

Walking back, I challenge you to pinpoint an exact year. It is impossible and there is a reason to it. This place and this view are timeless, of course:

In an unexpected, involuntary homage to the Atrides, the 354 inhabitants of modern Mykines still bury their dead all around Agamemnon's Vault.

Around an almost icy jug of Retsina wine, I asked my treasured friend V, the archaeologist: do you really think they ever left?

Are you nuts? And what would we do without them?

Coming back to a sweltering Athens, just imagine my head shake in disbelief watching Lasagna Lady once again clinging to that poor guy's T-shirt, the bickering between C's stans about who is the most telepath of them all and the wailings about the lack of secksay content in Episode 7.

Seriously, Fandom? Is this the best you can give me?

Episode I am hurrying to watch, nevertheless. But first, the laundry. Fair's fair.

[manwalksintobar]

IV, from The Little Seafarer  // Odysseas Elytis

IV

I did not find spring so much in the fields, or, say, in a Botticelli, as in a little red Palm Sunday icon. Thus one day, looking at a head of Zeus, I felt the sea. When we discover the secret connections of concepts and we follow them in depth we shall come to another kind of clearing which is Poetry. And Poetry is always one as the sky is one. The question is from where one regards the sky.

I have seen it from right in the middle of the sea.

translated from the Greek by Jeffrey Carson and Nikos Sarris

#poetry #Odysseas Elytis #spring #Greek poetry #the sky #the sea #Οδυσσέας Ελύτης

[liefst]

books i read in 2023

Sayaka Murata, Convenience store woman

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-five

Maryam Hassouni, Wat de fak

Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake

Juan Rulfo, Pedro Páramo

Margaret Atwood, The year of the flood

Isabel Allende, The house of the spirits

María Gainza, Optic nerve

Piet Paaltjens, Snikken en grimlachjes

Arthur Miller, Death of a salesman

Anja Meulenbelt, Feminisme: terug van nooit weggeweest

Feminism: en antologi

Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea

Caroline Knapp, Appetites: Why women want

Jean Rhys, Voyage in the dark

Euripides, Electra

Euripides, The Phoenician women

Euripides, The Bacchae

Jean Rhys, La grosse Fifi

Odysseas Elytis, The axion esti

Hilda Newman & Tim Tate, Diamonds at dinner

Julie Orringer, How to breathe underwater

Richard Brautigan, Revenge of the lawn

Jane Campion, The piano (screenplay)

Jean Rhys, Quartet

Emma Cline, The girls

Arnon Grunberg, Tirza

Karen Blixen, Ehrengard

Alain de Botton, Religion for atheists

Arthur Japin, De overgave

#with my favourites in bold

[poesiablog60]

Solo chi combatte contro l'oscurità interiore

domani avrà la sua parte di sole

*

Odysseas Elytis

[godsopenwound]

Hi do you have a goodreads? I'm just wondering what your favourite books are ?

Rosie

X

:)

hii love, i don’t have goodreads, i use the notion app as my book reading tracker!! here’s an ask from a while ago where i listed my favourite books, but i will (gladly!) add my new favourite ones from what i’ve been reading lately:

Dead Dad Jokes by Ollie Schminkey

Angels Before Man by Rafael Nicolás

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson

Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

My Mother’s Sin by Georgios Vizyinos

The Swallows Will Come Back by Alkyoni Papadaki

This Star Is For All Of Us by Tasos Livaditis

The Monogram by Odysseas Elytis

The Moonlight Sonata by Yiannis Ritsos

#anabulous #asks