17.03.2025
Our World is Beautiful (Villagers' Reprise)
From the highest point in the sky (To the end of the mines)
Where is the spark? (That illuminates us)
What did it look like?
If only we knew
If only this kingdom
Would become beautiful again
Yiannis Ritsos - Επιστολή στον Πάμπλο Νερούδα ( Γ versuri traducere în engleză
English
Letter to Pablo Neruda (Part 3)
Pablo,look to the inner wall of Greece
above the fireplace-
a cartridge belt of stars
between two braids of garlics and onions
above the loom, the double-barrelled gun, the fiddle and the moldboard.
..........................
This wild summer with its sporty undershirt
with its cotton pants stained by ejaculations and dreams
has its ring hidden in the crickets' corner.
The road with the five trees opens to the sea.
Here is the land of poetry, Pablo. It's waiting for you.
Above the graves it lights up the lamps of its oranges.
Here it smells of damp oregano and charred goat hair.
Here in Psilalonia they get to dancing and put the Gream Reaper as the mark.
A wall falls over. And another. And another.
The space inside is freed. Naked sky.
Deep serenity like the birth of trees.
Come on Pablo.
Lying on the grass one night we'll smoke the starlight
At a beach in Samos waiting for us is a small green table, two chairs,
a jug of ouzo, octopus grilled over coal
a song from the boats with the sound of homeric oars,
large pages of lime to scratch our verses on.
The red and golden Virgin Mary of the grapes and wheats
olive fields carrying the punnets of ancient patience on their shoulders,
apricot trees shading light onto our papers with their blossoms,
monasteries of silence behind the bars of stars,
the powerful gleam of the river where Hera would wash her hair,
cypresses showing what we have to say.
They're all looking for us.
The villagers spoil their trees
they calm their worries at the olive tree's blossom
they stalk the rain, the wind, the frost, the heat.
The earth's secrets are cut lump by lump.
The first assurance starts with justice.
It never ends, that bitter joy that fights for the joy of the world.
...
Small shops in the autumn drizzle
a cart in the mad- the driver asleep
the scratched mirror of the small barbershop
showing a bit of the neighbourhood's scratched face
the shadow of the dusk's thorns on the window glasses
that guy with the newspaper who went and stood by the traffic light
the Agamemnon of the sunset with 23 wounds drowned in his red light
out of tune lights under the peppers
dusted bottles on the shelves
the twelve fishermen passed by the lower road without nets
a mother leaned her bundle against the stairs-
It's raining
raining an oblivion of children's harmonicas
raining little unrelated stories
bitter words that went off-center.
Give them their canter and their mark. The fairytale goes off road without losing its truth. Nothing is under our eyes. A scream
like a hand that was lit by the headlight of the last bus.
Pablo,
save the sand, its shadow, its voice. Point at what it's pointing.
....
Yes Pablo,
we came into the world to sing
and so the others would sing along with us.
The aspen leaf is green on one side, silver on the other.
If we don't see it the world will get poorer. It's odd
nothing mismatched and foreign in the poem. This corner of the eyes
shines over the health. Cheers.
Our chat stops here.
Our chat was going on way before it had started,
Our chat goes on wherever it ends.
Goodbye my brother with the dark eyes that chase away the darkness.
We will be meeting every moment in the world.
I adorned this poem with your verses
the way we adorn a room facing the sun with pictures of the sea
the way the faith in democracy adorns our heart day and night.
Goodbye my brother.
We came into the world to sing
and so the others would sing along with us.
Mai multe traduceri de versuri din acest artist: Yiannis Ritsos
Toate versurile în limba engleză de pe acest site pot fi utilizate numai în scopuri personale și educaționale.
Toate versurile sunt proprietatea și drepturile de autor ale proprietarilor sau proprietarilor respectivi.
Mai multe traduceri de versuri
From the highest point in the sky (To the end of the mines)
Where is the spark? (That illuminates us)
What did it look like?
If only we knew
If only this kingdom
Would become beautiful again
17.03.2025
Rain
Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
You slept, crying, swallowing blood
When the dawn was seen on the horizon
I never complaint about fate
Even if it turned my morning into evening
With this evening, it brought
My heart that was left away
Little by little, it rained
My heart shattered into little pieces
When it became morning againi
'Do you love me?' - I asked
You never asked for anything
You admired my eyebrows and eyes a thousand times
Stroking your black hair,
I lost myself this night
Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
Where do you go, swallowing blood?
Where would the dawn lead me?
17.03.2025
Sawah Lettuces
Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
Without looking, she grabbed a bunch and left
The sawah lettuces has now been brought back home
In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
The girl's mother bought some while carrying a woven basket
The sawah lettuces are now ready to be cooked
Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
With two plates of rice and nasnaran, sitting on a divan
The sawah lettuce is eaten with rice
17.03.2025
The Little Bunch of Rushes
O maiden of the finest rushes1
What a pity for you that my bundle has come undone
Would you come with me, just the two of us
Under the bank of the wood with the brightest flowers
No priest would ever hear of it
Nor any living soul
Until the birds start to talk in human language
And the blackbird starts speaking Greek.
I’ve no stockings nor shoes
Not even a stool to sit down on
I haven't a penny in the whole wide world
Unless Jesus Christ should take pity on me
My trousers are threadbare
And as you know, my blanket is worn out
Yet still there are plenty of women in the taverns
Who chase after me just for the price of a drink
Oh, did you think to entice me, young man
With your flattery? Well, it did you no good
There’s many a sensible girl
Carrying a load who has been led astray
But I myself would rather carry heavy loads
And drag them till the day I die
Than have your child on my knee
Asking for news of you when you're nowhere to be found
- 1. Rushes are a kind of grass-like plant used to make floor coverings and furniture, traditionally collected by young women. The motif of gathering rushes often has sexual connotation in folk songs of the British Isles and Ireland in both English and Irish. This song is no exception.