Οι Ταδε: Ακούει,κλαίει και εξαφανίζεται.

Δευτέρα 10 Δεκεμβρίου 2012

Ακούει,κλαίει και εξαφανίζεται.

Ποιηση Andre Spire
Μουσικη,λαουτο,φωνη Μιχαλης Καλογερακης
Μεταφραση Γιωργος Κ. Καραβασιλης

το αρχικο ποιημα ειναι του Παντελη Καλογερακη

φωτογραφιες απο το Παρισι του Παντελη Καλογερακη

Όσο σε περιμένω και δεν έρχεσαι,
μεταμορφώνομαι σε αναλογικό ρολόι,
που χει για λεπτοδείκτη,
ένα κοφτερό μαχαίρι.
Έτσι κάθε δευτερόλεπτο απουσίας σου στο στήθος μου αποτυπώνεται.

Ποιηση Παντελης Καλογερακης

Ένα φως μεσα στη νύχτα
Μια φωνη, απο το ανοιχτο παραθυρο.
Τραγούδησε τραγούδησε μικρό μου
κάποιος περνά το μονοπάτι!

Καποιος που ποτε δεν σε έχει δει
Καποιος που ποτε του δεν θα δει τα χείλη και τα ρούχα σου.

Που κάθεται για μια στιγμή,
Ακούει,κλαίει και εξαφανίζεται.

Και κουβαλά στην άκρη της γης,
Για μέρες πάμπολλες για πάντα,
Το βράδυ εκείνο το παράθυρο, τον ουρανό
Το φως και τη φωνή σου

Ποιηση Andre Spire

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BOMB by Gregory Corso

                   Budger of history   Brake of time   You   Bomb       Toy of universe   Grandest of all snatched sky   I cannot hate you         Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt   the jawbone of an ass      The bumpy club of One Million B.C.   the mace   the flail    the axe    Catapult Da Vinci   tomahawk Cochise   flintlock Kidd   dagger Rathbone     Ah and the sad desparate gun of Verlaine   Pushkin   Dillinger   Bogart  And hath not St. Michael a burning sword   St. George a lance   David a sling  Bomb   you are as cruel as man makes you   and you're no crueller than cancer   All Man hates you   they'd rather die by car-crash   lightning   drowning Falling off a roof   electric-chair  heart-attack   old age   old age   O Bomb      They'd rather die by anything but you   Death's finger is free-lance   Not up to man whether you boom or not   Death has long since distributed its   categorical blue   I sing thee Bomb   Death's extravagance   Death's jubilee    Gem of Death's supremest blue   The flyer will crash   his death will differ     with the climbor who'll fall   to die by cobra is not to die by bad pork Some die by swamp   some by sea  and some by the bushy-haired man in the night    O there are deaths like witches of Arc   Scarey deaths like Boris Karloff     No-feeling deaths like birth-death   sadless deaths like old pain Bowery   Abandoned deaths   like Capital Punishment   stately deaths like senators    And unthinkable deaths like Harpo Marx   girls on Vogue covers   my own      I do not know just how horrible Bombdeath is   I can only imagine       Yet no other death I know has so laughable a preview   I scope       a city   New York City   streaming   starkeyed   subway shelter          Scores and scores   A fumble of humanity   High heels bend             Hats whelming away   Youth forgetting their combs           Ladies not knowing what to do   with their shopping bags             Unperturbed gum machines   Yet dangerous 3rd rail           Ritz Brothers   from the Bronx   caught in the A train                 The smiling Schenley poster will always smile                    Impish death   Satyr Bomb   Bombdeath                      Turtles exploding over Istanbul                          The jaguar's flying foot                         soon to sink in arctic snow                      Penguins plunged against the Sphinx                         The top of the Empire state                     arrowed in a broccoli field in Sicily                  Eiffel shaped like a C in Magnolia Gardens                        St. Sophia peeling over Sudan                      O athletic Death   Sportive Bomb                        the temples of ancient times                          their grand ruin ceased                       Electrons   Protons   Neutrons                           gathering Hersperean hair                     walking the dolorous gulf of Arcady                           joining marble helmsmen                        entering the final ampitheater                      with a hymnody feeling of all Troys                         heralding cypressean torches                          racing plumes and banners                  and yet knowing Homer with a step of grace                        Lo the visiting team of Present                            the home team of Past                        Lyre and tube together joined                      Hark the hotdog soda olive grape                       gala galaxy robed and uniformed                        commissary   O the happy stands                       Ethereal root and cheer and boo                      The billioned all-time attendance                           The Zeusian pandemonium                             Hermes racing Owens                           The Spitball of Buddha                             Christ striking out                            Luther stealing third                       Planeterium Death   Hosannah Bomb                      Gush the final rose   O Spring Bomb                      Come with thy gown of dynamite green                        unmenace Nature's inviolate eye                          Before you the wimpled Past                    behind you the hallooing Future   O Bomb                         Bound in the grassy clarion air                          like the fox of the tally-ho                   thy field the universe thy hedge the geo                  Leap Bomb   bound Bomb   frolic zig and zag                 The stars a swarm of bees in thy binging bag                       Stick angels on your jubilee feet                     wheels of rainlight on your bunky seat                      You are due and behold you are due                        and the heavens are with you                    hosanna incalescent glorious liaison                  BOMB O havoc antiphony molten cleft BOOM                     Bomb mark infinity a sudden furnace                  spread thy multitudinous encompassed Sweep                          set forth awful agenda               Carrion stars   charnel planets   carcass elements              Corpse the universe   tee-hee finger-in-the-mouth hop                        over its long long dead Nor                     From thy nimbled matted spastic eye                     exhaust deluges of celestial ghouls                       From thy appellational womb                    spew birth-gusts of of great worms                         Rip open your belly Bomb                from your belly outflock vulturic salutations                Battle forth your spangled hyena finger stumps                        along the brink of Paradise                          O Bomb   O final Pied Piper                 both sun and firefly behind your shock waltz                           God abandoned mock-nude                  beneath His thin false-talc's apocalypse                         He cannot hear thy flute's                         happy-the-day profanations                He is spilled deaf into the Silencer's warty ear                     His Kingdom an eternity of crude wax                       Clogged clarions untrumpet Him                         Sealed angels unsing Him                       A thunderless God   A dead God                        O Bomb   thy BOOM His tomb                  That I lean forward on a desk of science                   an astrologer dabbling in dragon prose                half-smart about wars   bombs   especially bombs               That I am unable to hate what is necessary to love                  That I can't exist in a world that consents             a child in a park   a man dying in an electric-chair                     That I am able to laugh at all things           all that I know and do not know   thus to conceal my pain               That I say I am a poet and therefore love all man            knowing my words to be the acquainted prophecy of all men                 and my unwords no less an acquaintanceship                            That I am manifold                      a man pursuing the big lies of gold                       or a poet roaming in bright ashes                     or that which I imagine myself to be                  a shark-toothed sleep   a man-eater of dreams                    I need not then be all-smart about bombs               Happily so   for if I felt bombs were caterpillars                    I'd doubt not they'd become butterflies                          There is a hell for bombs                       They're there   I see them there                        They sit in bits and sing songs 	                    mostly German songs                       And two very long American songs                     and they wish there were more songs                    especially Russian and Chinese songs                   and some more very long American songs                     Poor little Bomb that'll never be                         an Eskimo song   I love thee                          I want to put a lollipop                             in thy furcal mouth                      A wig of Goldilocks on thy baldy bean                   and have you skip with me Hansel and Gretel                         along the Hollywoodian screen                       O Bomb in which all lovely things                    moral and physical anxiously participate 	                O fairylike plucked from the                            grandest universe tree                        O piece of heaven which gives                      both mountain and anthill a sun                 I am standing before your fantastic lily door                 I bring you Midgardian roses   Arcadian musk                  Reputed cosmetics from the girls of heaven                    Welcome me   fear not thy opened door                      nor thy cold ghost's grey memory                    nor the pimps of indefinite weather                        their cruel terrestial thaw                           Oppenheimer is seated                        in the dark pocket of Light                     Fermi is dry in Death's Mozambique                          Einstein his mythmouth                  a barnacled wreath on the moon-squid's head              Let me in   Bomb   rise from that pregnant-rat corner                 nor fear the raised-broom nations of the world                            O Bomb I love you                  I want to kiss your clank   eat your boom                     You are a paean   an acme of scream                       a lyric hat of Mister Thunder                         O resound thy tanky knees                      BOOM   BOOM   BOOM   BOOM   BOOM                       BOOM ye skies and BOOM ye suns                     BOOM BOOM ye moons   ye stars BOOM                      nights ye BOOM   ye days ye BOOM                  BOOM BOOM ye winds   ye clouds ye rains                     go BANG ye lakes   ye oceans BING                      Barracuda BOOM and cougar BOOM                        Ubangi BOOM   orangutang                   BING BANG BONG BOOM   bee bear baboon                         ye BANG ye BONG ye BING                        the tail the fin the wing                  Yes   Yes   into our midst a bomb will fall                  Flowers will leap in joy their roots aching           Fields will kneel proud beneath the halleluyahs of the wind             Pinkbombs will blossom   Elkbombs will perk their ears            Ah many a bomb that day will awe the bird a gentle look                  Yet   not enough to say a bomb will fall                   or even contend celestial fire goes out                 Know that the earth will madonna the Bomb          that in the hearts of men to come more bombs will be born             magisterial bombs wrapped in ermine   all beautiful                and they'll sit plunk on earth's grumpy empires                      fierce with moustaches of gold