BIOGRAPHY AND POEMS IN OTHER LANGUAGES

 

 

          Biography in English

 

Yannis Yfantis was born according to his willing in Raina (a valley of Etolia) thousand years ago. He studied agriculture, cattle-breeding, the art of riding as well as astronomy and the art of weaving*.

             When he was 22 years old he left his studies in Law in order to study undiverted the book of the World.

            His published  books are: Manthraspenta (1977), Mystics of the Orient (1982), Elder Edda (1983), The Mirror of Proteus (1986), Signs of Immortal Memory (1987), Poems Embroideries on the Skin of the Devil (1988), Temple of Cosmos, (1996), The Garden of Poetry (2000), Archetypes (2001), The Ideogram of the Snake (2003), Love Unconquered in the Fight (2004), Transformations of the Zero (2006).

            Many of his poems has been translated in English, in French, in Bulgarian, in Italian, in Russian, in Spanish and recently in Arabic, Chinese, German, Finnish, Hebrew, Serbian and Slav Macedonian.

            Although he believes that the books are made by themselves, he received, unexpectedly, for them, the Cavafis Prize for 1995 in Alexandria of Egypt.

           

_______________

* Yfantis means weaver.

 

Note: The books circulated in foreign languages are the following:

Manthraspenta, edizioni del Paniere, Verona, 1984

ХRAM HA CBETA (Temple of Cosmos), ÁÃÁÔÏ editions, Sofia, 2000

Le Temple du Cosmos, éditions L’Attentive, France, 2000 (limited number of manuscript copies)

Archetypes, Ziti editions, Thessaloniki, 2000 (in Greek, English and German)

Temple du Monde, éditions L’Harmattan, Paris, 2003

ХRAMOT HA CBETOT (Temple of Cosmos), MATIKA editions, Cкoпje, 2004

Masques du Néant (Masks of Nothing), a clay book made by Marie-José Armando, France, 2005

 

 

 

 

THE EVER-LIVING FIRE*

 

           

         This world, being the same for everyone, was not created by any god or any man, but it was, it is and it will be, forever, an ever-living fire, increasing in a measure and decreasing in a measure.

           

                                                                                                            HERACLETUS

           

           

           

   I don't know when and where I was born; looking for the healing beauty and the truth, which gives freedom, I found myself on the roads of poetry.

           

            Here I am where Zero bites its own tail

            with pain

                        and delight

            here I am

            in the midst of eternity

            at its beginning and its end.

           

 

 

      ALWAYS  HERE

 

            There is no problem; I am here; I am always here.

           

            I have written the Song of the Harpists, 2000 years B.C., in Egypt

            I have written Odyssey, 800 years B.C., in Greece

            I have written Tao Te King, 600 years B.C., in China

            I have written Mathnavi i Manavi on 11th century in Persia

            I have written, exiled, in Ravenna, the Comedy which Voccacio called Divine

            I have written The Woman of Zakynthos

            I have written the Four Quartets

            And I have also written Kihli and

            Manthraspenta

           

            There is no problem; I am here; I am always here.

 

 

 

           THUS SPOKE THE POET

 

            Every poet is one of the waves of that OCEAN, whose name is SPIRIT.

 

            The poets are not many. In reality, the poet is one (that man called by Homer NO ONE), who has many persons and many names scattered in time and space.

           

            Cosmos exists ever and forever. But for the people Cosmos does not exist until they become conscious. To people, Cosmos exists, until it is in their conscious. People's conscience (the mirror in which Cosmos is mirrored), with the passing of time becomes dim, and Cosmos is mirrored in it muddy and uncompleted. Then the poet comes and cleans again the mirror of conscience, so that Cosmos can be mirrored again, as it was in its endless beginning.

            The poet makes Cosmos exist, by making people be conscious of Cosmos. By revealing, the ever existing, but covered Cosmos, it is as though the poet is creating Cosmos. And here is where the word poet (creator) finds its mystic and substantial meaning.

           

           

           

           THUS SPOKE THE MUSE

           

            All things are transformations of Zero; maya.

            Put zero in your finger as a ring and you shall exorcise the Maya.*

           

            *Maya, in sanscritic is the mother of Buddha and also the hallucination. Maya, in Greek is charm (sorcery).

 

 

           

            I AM COMING

 

I don’t know if it was Ritsos or Homer
 who convinced me to enter the Wooden Horse
 carrying only a sword and a mirror.
 
 I’m coming from the desert where the sand
 is the crush of every form.
 
 I’m coming from the Ursas, carrying
 a sack of stars, holding
 a moon-mask in my hand.
 
 I’m coming from the hut, plaited with
 
                              branches of thunder.
 I’m coming from a house made with mirrors.

 

I’m coming from the arched, like a sword, ravine,
 half filled with snow, half filled with flowers.
 
 I’m coming from the banks of the mountainous river
 where ascetic waterfalls
 stand erect in the stony jars.

 

I’m coming from the North; with half-moons as
 skates, continually sliding
 on the snow for three thousand years.
 
 I’m coming from the hordes of Tatars; I’m the soldier
 who slaughtered Attar and I’m Attar as well
 and the knife that slaughtered him.
 
 I’m coming from the black galaxy of ants
 that sweeps away a dead butterfly like
 an angel’s sailing-ship
 like Ikaros after his fall.
 
 I’m coming from Greece, who by the hand
 of Peloponnese measures and scatters
 around her the islands, so as not to be
 spread alone into the sea.
 
 I’m coming from the hole of a rotten bough
 where I’ve been saying mass in a wild-bee’s uniform
 or wearing butterfly’s vestments.
 
 I come from the dusk
 of Thessaly, where I shepherded
 a flock of fires for a thousand years.
 
 I’m coming from the book of Anaximandros;
 in it I exist, wherever I go.
 
 They asked me from where I come.
                           What should I say?
 They wouldn't understand
              and then
 they would take me to the psychiatrist, in chains.

 

“I’m coming” I said, plainly, “from Agrinio”,
 hiding, as much as I could,
 the word “agrios”(**), the “n”, and most of all
 the “o”, which is a well and a trap,
 home and mirror and labyrinth (but yes
 the most complicated labyrinth, however much
  it appears such simple, small ring).

 

______________________

                Agrinio: Town of Aetolea; the root of its name is from Agrios (Wild), a hero from ancient Aetolea

            **agrios (Greek word): Wild 

 

           

           

         Poetry is the fables of the elders. Poetry is (paramythea) fables and (paramythea) consolation. But if you are not hot or cold, as John of Apocalypse says, why will you seek for poetry? If you don't come from Paradise, why will you seek for fables? If you don't come from Hell, why will you seek consolation?

 

            Poetry is this; poetry is that. A thousand and one definitions have been given to poetry. But the best definition of a thing is the thing itself: Poetry is poetry; that is:

 

           

          

           THE BOOK OF COSMOS

           

            Only one book has been written

            and has been written by things and not by words.

 

            Only one book has been written

            and has been written by Cosmos through Cosmos for Cosmos.

 

            Cosmos is the book of Cosmos.

           

            Cosmos has no beginning or end

            but when the poet reveals Cosmos

            it is like creating Cosmos from the beginning.

           

            There is only one book to be read

            and this is the book of Cosmos.

           

            To write means to read the book of Cosmos.

            All my writings are nothing but underlines in the book of Cosmos.

            All my writings are nothing but designs, notes, in the margins of its pages.

           

            To write means to indicate

            to try to share with the people

            the beauty or the horror I read in the book of Cosmos.

 

            Because nobody endures to read alone the book of Cosmos.

           

           

           

           SORROWFUL IS MY SOUL UNTIL DEATH

           

            For on this ancient vase two bodies are beautifully in love

            sorrowful is my soul until death.

 

            For at this hotel a taxi is biting this coffin as if it were a cigar

            sorrowful is my soul until death.

 

           For these steps lead down the mirror reaching the place where the moon's side-face is buried

            sorrowful is my soul until death.

 

            For this world everyone has a home and I am the stranger that has              

lost his race and its way

            sorrowful is my soul until death.

 

            For I wander outside your womb and outside my grave

            sorrowful is my soul until death

 

            Sorrowful is my soul until death.

 

 

 

FROM A CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE DIRECTOR AND THE POET

 

            Alethea (Truth), according to Greek etymology, means that which is never forgettable, which is otherwise, the eternal memory. Memory in Greek is the goddess Mnemosyne. Muses, according to the Greek Mythology, are daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne. But the word Zeus in Greek means Life (Zoe). So Muses were born by Life and Memory, by the Living Memory; so Muses for Greeks are the Living Memory, the Living Truth.

            The poet must give again to the people, the forgotten Living Truth. He must give again not his private memory or truth, but the Universal Memory or Truth, the Universal Logos of Heracletus, which is the common logos of communication and not the private logos of idiots who create Babel. The poet comes to destroy the personal languages of Babel and restore the one language of universal communication. The poet in order to give the Universal Logos, must abolish his own personality and become the medium, the mouth of Muses who are the goddesses of the Living Truth and the Universal Logos.

           

           

           

           SELF-KNOWLEDGE

 

            I look in the sea-mirror

                                and I see myself the fish.

            I look in the heaven-mirror

                        and I see myself the sun.

            (Seaweed is the clouds and the sun a fish)

            I look in the heaven-mirror

                               and I see myself the stars.

            The Galaxy is the river of the heavens.

            In the waters of the Galaxy I am the fish.

            In the waters of the Galaxy

                               I fish

                           with a ø

                        myself.

           

            __________________

            The verb "to fish" in Greek begins by the letter ø (øÜñé).

 

 

           THE FERRYMAN WHO HELD ON HIS BACK JESUS CHRIST

 

            Saint Christopher who carried on his backs as various people as

            merchants, shepherds, whores, priests, magicians, robbers, demons, beggars, kings;

            he could not bear and cross the river holding on his back a child.

            He kneeled there, in the middle of the waters.

            For who is really able to carry a child on his back?

           

           

           

            FABLE

 

            You had in the sky's mirror the sun as your body

            It's dark now and you' ve been scattered into stars

            "But the sky is a yard and the stars are the seed that I'll pick up at dawn".

            Said the rooster and climbed on the back of the dragonian root to roost.

 

           

 

           THE LORD OF THE FIRE

 

            (Outfalls of the river Acheloos, 1972)

                       

                        To Alexandros Ydatis

                                 

            On the wild lilies is the dew of the foam.

            On the black soil is the hoarfrost of the salt.

            Where is your house?

           

            The tree skeleton

            here on shallows of the sun

            and your voice a halcyon in the light. 

           

            Your hands over the fire and the falcon

            engraving the palm of the wind.

           

            Here the horseshoe and the sheepskin.

            Here the woman who recites light

            to the birds of sea and sun.

            Your horned skull here

            on the sand.

           

            Here the oar of Odysseus;

            here the folds of your grandfather;

            the black soil is soft like the tow

            and on the salt hoarfrost the fire is mirrored.

           

            Cowherd-hills come out of the sea

            moving as slow as the centuries,

            moving as slow as the oxen on the plain

            laying on its back, sure and endless.

                       

            Here is the remaining window.

            What’s the in? What’s the out?

            Wherever you look from, here

            you always see the sky.

           

            Your hands over the fire and the fire

            has been leant, became blood. Mirror yourself!

            Into the blood is your ancient shadow.

           

            ___________

P.S.

           

            The rotten smell is here. And the fire

            is a waving mirror. And there are passing

            shadows of oxen in the fire.

           

            Here is the perfume of the sand. Here the salt,

            a shirt forgotten by the sea

            in its endless taking and giving.

 

           

           

           I AM CARRIED AWAY BY A WINTERING FEELING

           

            A wintering feeling toward the hinterlands carries me away

            on nights embroidered with fires and fairy tales.

            I am carried away by wolves to their dens and by wild boars to oak forests,

            to the somnolent darkness of winter quarters,

            to the lethargy of thin rain under a rooftop.

            I am carried away by a wintering emotion toward the hinterlands, to my roots,

            there where the satiated bear

            -it thus torn God into pieces-

            dressed in its heavy fur and fat

            seeks now for the innocence of sleep.

 

 

 

           HAPPY SONG

           

                        I

           

            Comes my voice, wind of infinity

            Comes my voice laden with

                                          the stars'

            Male pollen; it comes

            To the flower of your mind.

           

                        II

           

            I come from the bounds of

            Some eternity.

            With sheepskin and ecstasy

            With a daub of moonlight on the brow

                                    and a horn around the waist

            With memories of fire and hoarfrost

            I come from the bounds of

            Some eternity.

            I left my footprints in the

            Loam of light

            Assumed the mine of water

            Assumed the slackness of testacea

            I nurtured winds and softened sounds

            Lived the wolf's ecstasy

            Through fire and ice.

            I come from the bounds of

            Some eternity.

            I come from the sidereal desert.

           

                        III

           

            I come from the sidereal desert.

            I walk in solitude displacing the future.

            The springs of illusion run dry, everything parches.

            Sand abounds and only sand

            Space for hard thinking

            Space for speculation and freedom

            Space of emptiness and fire.

            I come from where you are now proceeding

            I come from the sidereal desert

            I sprout alone in the wilderness of nations: a mellow

            Sun

            Heavy with the pollen of wisdom.

  

__________________________

* The above poems and texts of Y.Y. were used in the documentary of CHRISTOS ARONIS "THE EVER-LIVING FIRE" created for the "ORGANIZATION FOR THE CULTURAL CAPITAL OF EUROPE, THESSALONIKI 1997"

 

Translation to English: Kimon Friar, Vasso Dermani, Yannis Yfantis, Dolly Dalcas.

 

 

 

 

OTHER POEMS OF YANNIS YFANTIS

 

 

 

VERSES

 

É

Come the coarse mountain winds

wearing the heavy scent of origan and pine,

having one on its sleeve the other on its knee

the argent brightness of their touch upon a cool spring.

 

II

Ah, waxing moon and bounded waters!

The coolest form as it flows glibly into the well

articulates with a shiver the reed’s posture.

 

ÉÉÉ

And the fountain’s aqueous women

raise up their cool bodies and throw

cool words at each other

like their bodies, like their looks.

 

 

 

I EAT AGAIN MY FAVOURITE WILD PEARS

 

I eat again my favourite wild pears

sour in their wild sweetness.

I eat again my favourite wild pears tasting

something of that

               animal freedom as they romp stoutly

                              in their instinct without

humility of choice. Come then

rekindle, passion, and sanctify my deeds.

Come and save me from

humility of choice. Come.

 

 

 

FOR YOU, JESUS

 

For you, Jesus, I’ll write a bitter book on soft, sunny tobacco

           leaves

while my old man drinks to the fire and our two women

snooze wrapped in a red blanket like the Queen of Hearts

          thrown down

on the floor by sleep. For you, Jesus,

I’ll write a bitter book and give it

to the fire to memorize and enact before our sphinx like cat.

 

 

 

STOVE

 

With whom shall I converse tonight, O stove,

You old iron chimpanzee, my fervent grannie?

Stove with bolts and a door in your belly, stove

Raising a flue for an arm and

Sticking a tortuous fist through the wall. O stove,

Though you have a heart of tin and in your veins

Runs fuel, I know

You are the incarnation of Agnis and offspring

Of Hestia, goddess of home life; I know

You have a kindling soul. Ah, how I love

To hear

Its radiant rumble and

Feel it,

Its blue feet rooted in the fuel,

Doing a naked fling,

Spreading warmth on my body,

My clothing, my books, in the entire

Room, even on ... Ah, stove,

How your spirit comforts me in my cell,

What strength I derive to go on weaving

This cloth of emptiness. But then I fancy

That you too share my feelings;

And though you are devoid of eyes, nose and ears

You have so many holes, you must surely discern

What goes on here and elsewhere,

When up on the roof you swank

About puffing smoke through your hat

and such trickery.

I sense it: you hear, smell, see, know all about

The rain's tender feet, about angels

Dancing and whirling light-

Footed ly with

Snow/lakes, about the mystic

Mist

Which changes the town

Into the dragon’s haunted land. O stove,

You old iron chimpanzee, my fervent grannie:

Stove with bolts and a door in your belly: stove

Raising a flue for an arm and. . . O stove,

Let me turn your heart to zero,

Let me hear, lying in the dark,

Your contraction’s

Rusty formication as it gradually fades out,

And my mind slowly sets, and I’m wholly immersed

In purifying sleep.

 

 

 

WITH INTENSIVE MEMORY OF POWER

 

I’m afraid, I can ’t go on.

I fear people who pursue

things I painstakingly abandoned.

I fear life, death, opening a window

and not knowing what I’ll find, fear

where a thought might take me,

I'm even fearful of sleep.

What I dispose of when awake comes

to haunt me in my sleep. When up,

I pluck up courage and hold out, but in sleep

I am always divested.

For months an adder has been bleeding my heart —

I never saw it

loose among people and places — saw it

but once in a dream.

It had just let go and crawled distended on its stomach.

I couldn’t move

much as I tried;! couldn't budge

till I woke up.

And so I go from sleep to sleep

seeking to resume this very dream,

hoping that this time with intensive power,

with intensive memory of power, I might be able to move,

and advance.

 

 

 

MAGIC SCENE

 

And we brought the cauldron on a pole on our shoulders

As the ancients carried slaughtered wild boar, beasts and bears.

And the greenwood observed us with flowers that shimmered

As that mild creature, the Sun, gained height, as the olden

          magic card quickened.

And fresh crocuses sprouted where dawn had stepped

On the autumnal footpath. And the awakened ants

Moved groggily around their hills, quiet

As our thoughts, that bending down

You could catch your reflection in their sheen.

                                                  We stopped for a breath,

And you went for a piss in the thicket, and the vapour rose

         like a reverie,

Like the thicket's prayer to the Sun.

                                                       Later,

As we trudged over the bloomy heather, it struck me

That we regarded nothing with disdain, that nothing

Compelled us to feel

Inept compassion, and driven

By finer feelings

                       we approached or touched

Each one of our bewitched companions (some turned to stone

                                                                       others took root

                                                                                  and others got nasty).

Such were my thoughts as we cleared the shrubwood and made

for the stream where Death caught us unawares.

Remember Death?

He wore a putrid, fly-infested hog’s hide. Death before the sun.

And the water with its long face mirrored the Sun and washed

Away it’s image. And the horse’s rib

(there in the silt by your feet) tinkled: tense

                                                                   light-

                                  weight bow of Nothing.

 

And we brought the cauldron on a pole on our shoulders

And found the workmen turning the cistern’s windlass.

And I wondered if not everything in this world

Derives from the turning of this windlass, if not

Everything is derived for the turning of this windlass.

 

 

 

LESSON

 

For ten years the Achaeans

stormed Troy —

as spermatozoa storm the ovum

as souls storm the sun

and bats the moon — as

for ten years the Achaeans

stormed Troy.

And in the tenth lucky

leap year

that wretched wooden horse

forced its way in like a penis

and the Achaeans conquered Troy.

So what?

 

 

 

EDENIC

 

An angel danced and danced and faded out

leaving ash among us and the stream dry

like snake skin on stony ground and the rock charred

as if retaining the shadow of fire, or of this angel.

Persists the smell of molten metal in the memory, persists

           that thunder in the blood.

Like heavy breathing the wings reaped time

and the white bones shone in the abyss, undeciphered;

and the sky opened up with all its animals and stars:

prehistoric animals and dewey stars, a sheer delight,

as existed before knowledge, before the fall

from God’s Garden where a bracing bonfire scented your sleep

by the grazing white ox and sun animal,

as the twilight of humanity nestled under the fig leaves

and the butterfly of darkness appeared, wings mottled with the

          sun’s eclipse;

and under the sign of Capricorn the woman-apple tree and the

          serpent

sliding underarm gave a sudden jerk,

showering you with blossoms and spoiling your sleep.

                                                An angel

danced and danced and faded out

leaving ash among us, in us, everywhere ashes.

 

 

 

WONDER

 

What perfect goats goats are.

Newborn, and they already know

to a T

all things goatish.

You’d think that they’d been studying goatishness

from the beginning of time.

 

 

 

OR THE CAPE OF AN ANGEL

 

The woolfell hangs like the pelt of a stellar animal,

or the cape of an angel who in daytime turns to fire in the

blacksmith shops

of Agrinion and at night in the plains of Arcturus

herds with a radiant rod

the mountain spirits.

 

 

 

TINY CREATURS

 

Tiny creatures, now crawling through the forests of my body,

             now scurrying

across an open book, now getting lost

in the desert of my table or the shingly regions of a rock, or

             poised

on a flower amassing wisdom and sundust; aquatic

creatures, winged or subterranean, nocturnal creatures,

trinkets of lunar angels bearing the blob of Darkness,

specks of creation and yet with audio-visual antennae of green

            and grey; creatures,

some with patched sackcloth on your backs, and others with a

            conch

assimilating time, or a medieval shield, or

the horned helmet of a sun brave; tiny creatures,

wings dotted with the stars of memory and red orbs

like shrunken years and numbers, mutations of naught, or

moments-studs on the Gate of Ishtar; diurnal creatures,

trinkets of solar angels bearing the blob of Light; large creatures,

who live and love and die without knowing,

without deigning to know, who I am, where I’m going, what I

            look for, sorting out

those black bones of my mind.

 

 

 

THE DEEP GARDEN

 

And the horse said to me: "Shall we go down?

It’s a deep garden

with sad but friendly trees." And

in the dim, sleepy light

the trees bid me welcome.

"Have you been here long?" I asked.

"Since the time the angel

slipped and we spilt out of his goblet,"

they sighed. And from the murky

waters

sprang a chubby

moon

satiated with spells and sleep; and

echoing its presence ahead

a dry cistern shouted:

"Nail it down

that my tiny poppies might have a drink. Carve

it up

that my marble horses might have a bite. "And

— swish! — a fiery bird dived down and pierced

the moon (the trees

shuddered as though a spear

penetrated their roots), and I

just managed to have a glimpse

of the blue domain of moons,

                       recalling

the mountain cave where moonmen

moored their ship —

diamond, silver —the crew

forcing a laugh

to illuminate the bridge. And all at once

the trees’ susurro us came to a hush, and an angel

                     appeared

who plucked the fiery bird from his chest

and planted it in the earth, saying: "Here

                     you’ll remain

withering and burgeoning unto

                     forget fulness."

 

             Translated from the Greek by Yannis Goumas.

 

 

 

 

DEFINITION

 

Here I am where the Naught bites its own tail
with pain
       and passion
here
in the midst of eternity
at its beginning and its end.

 

 Translated by Yannis Gumas

 

 

 

MACEDONIA, 1981
 

 And we stopped in front of the railroad tracks
 in front of the lanterns that were flashing as if they were eyes
 of a sacred hawk of the Egyptians while the train
 was coming noisy and whistling;
                           an iron drago; it arrived.
 It's passing-It's passing -It's passing-It's passing It's passing-It's passing
            -It's passing. It passed, it's gone, an entire era
 days-windows, railway coaches-months, an entire era
 was going away leaving us
 below the eyes of the hawk keeper
 as this time cross-section while the sun
 was watching us prophetically because in front of us in the plain
 the roads were the lines of a hand. Hit the gas
 and we are gone riding on our YAMAHA towards the river.
 
 And we reached the place where the river is a hand and is wearing
 the bridge as a watch. And the gypsy
 was standing there at the river bank near the bridge. You stopped.
 And the gypsy was looking at your hand the lines like rivers
 spring and pass through the mountains of the palm
 before they flow into the sea. And the gypsy
 -perhaps your very soul mirrored in the day- the gypsy
 was wearing the colours of a pack of cards and had
 at her finger the golden number,
                         that is,
 the ring that the gypsy king
 fished when he threw his hook
 in the galaxy.
 
                              Translated by Apostolis Vlahakis

 

 

 

WRITTEN ADMIRABLY

 

My typewriter on the table

under the sycamore.

First time I write in a room so vast,

having the sky as roof and hills around, roads, palaces of ants…

But

what of course could I write when it happens

Cosmos to be already written admirably on Cosmos?

 

 

TEMPLE OF COSMOS

 

I’m looking here at an insect on a flower;

it’s a shaman that arrived in the mind, in the sun or

in the sanctuary of a plant,

where the initiates find ambrosia  and nectar.

 

I’m looking here at an insect and I’m thinking

that every being is nothing but a moving or unmoving

hieroglyphic

in to the uncreated temple of Cosmos.

 

 



TWO POEMS TRANSLATED IN GERMAN BY DIMITRA VISAITOU

 

 

 

ES LIEGT DARAN, DASS MICH DIE ERKENNTNIS VERGIFTET HAT

 

Wenn es dazu gekommen ist, daß diese Erde

zu einer entfernten dunklen Provinz wurde;

wenn es dazu gekommen ist, daß diese Welt menschenfeindlich wurde

wenn es dazu gekommen ist, daß dieses Leben zu einem Verdacht des Lebens wurde,

dieses Licht zu einem Verdacht des Lichtes, diese Zeit

eine vergessene Vergangenheit,

dann liegt es daran, daß mich die Erkenntnis vergiftet hat.

Die Erkenntnis war süß im Mund und bitter in den Eingeweiden;

Einst versüßte mir

die Erkenntnis die Eitelkeit; jetzt erlaubt mir

die Erkenntnis nicht einmal, eine Illusion zu kosten.

Die Erkenntnis verwüstete die Erkenntnis; ich habe nichts mehr,

woran ich meinen Kopf lehnen kann. Und ich denke

an Lazarus, der, wie erzählt wird, nichts sagen wollte,

sondern in seinen Grabgewändern noch gewickelt

nur nach Wasser verlangte,

damit er seine vergifteten Eingeweide ausspüle.

 

 

 

BUCH KOSMOS

 

Es ist nur ein Buch geschrieben worden

und es ist mit Dingen und nicht mit Wörtern geschrieben worden.

 

Es ist nur ein Buch geschrieben worden

und es ist vom Kosmos mit dem Kosmos für den Kosmos geschrieben worden.

 

Der Kosmos ist das Buch des Kosmos.

 

*

Ein Ende hat der Kosmos nicht, noch einen Anfang;

doch der Dichter, indem er den Kosmos enthüllt,

erschafft ihn wie aus dem Anfang.

                                   

*

 

Es gibt nur ein Buch zu Lesen

und dies ist das Buch des Kosmos.

 

"Ich schreibe" heißt, ich lese das Buch des Kosmos.

All meine Schriften sind nichts a1s nur Unterstreichungen im Buch des Kosmos;

all meine Schriften sind nichts als nur Notizen, Zeichnungen

auf den Rand seiner Seiten.

 

"Ich schreibe" heißt, ich zeige den Menschen,

daß ich mit ihnen die Schönheit

oder das Grauen zu teilen versuche, welche ich im Buch des Kosmos lese.

Weil kein Mensch es aushält, das Buch des Kosmos allein zu lesen.

 

Efessos, Tempel der Artemis, 1988 n.Chr.

 



ÐÑÏÓÄÉÏÑÉÓÌÏÓ (ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÌÁÍÈÑÁÓÐÅÍÔÁ) ÉÓÐÁÍÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ



ÐÑÏÓÄÉÏÑÉÓÌÏÓ

Íá 'ìáé åäþ ðïõ ôï ÌçäÝí äáãêþíåé ôçí ïõñÜ ôïõ
ìå çäïíÞ
______êáé ðüíï
íá 'ìáé
óôï ìÝóïí ôçò áéùíéüôçôáò
óôçí áñ÷Þ êáé óôï ôÝëïò ôçò.



ÓÏÌÐÁ (ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÌÁÍÈÑÁÓÐÅÍÔÁ) ÑÙÓÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ




ÓÏÌÐÁ

Ìå ðïéüíå áðüøå íá ìéëÞóù Óüìðá
ÃñéÜ ìïõ ÷éìðáôæßíá óéäåñÝíéá æåóôÞ ìïõ ãéáãéÜ
Óüìðá ìå âßäåò êáé ìå ðüñôá óôçí êïéëéÜ óïõ Óüìðá
Ðïõ õøþíåéò ôï âñá÷ßïíÜ óïõ áðü ìðïõñéÜ êáé
ÌðÞãåéò ôç æáñùìÝíç óïõ ãñïèéÜ óôïí ôïß÷ï, Óüìðá
Êé áí åßíáé ôåíåêÝíéá ç êáñäéÜ óïõ êáé óôéò öëÝâåò óïõ
ÔñÝ÷åé ðåôñÝëáéï îÝñù ðùò
Åßóáé åíóÜñêùóç ôïõ ¢ãíé êáé áðüãïíïò
Ôçò óðéôéêÞò èåÜò Åóôßáò êáé îÝñù ðùò
Åßíáé ç øõ÷Þ óïõ áðü öùôéÜ· á ðüóï ÷áßñïìáé
Óüìðá í' áêïýù åêåßíï ôï
ËáìðáäïëáìðÜäéáóìá ôçò øõ÷Þò óïõ êáé
Íá íïéþèù ôçí
Ìå ôá ãáëÜæéá ôçò ðïäÜñéá ñéæùìÝíá óôï ðåôñÝëáéï íá ÷ïñåýåé
Ôç öëüãéíç ãýìíéá ôçò
Áðëþíïíôáò ôç æÝóôá óôç óÜñêá ìïõ, ó' üëç
Ôçí êÜìáñÜ ìïõ áêüìá êáé...á Óüìðá
Ðüóï ìå óõíôñïöåýåé ç øõ÷Þ óïõ åäþ ìåò óôï êåëß ìïõ
Ðüóï ìïõ äßíåé äýíáìç íá õöáßíù
Ôï êÜëõììá åôïýôï ôïõ êåíïý· êáé âÝâáéá óõ
Èáññþ ìå íïéþèåéò ó' üëá åôïýôá Óüìðá
Ôé êé áí äåí Ý÷åéò ìÜôéá, ìýôç Þ áõôéÜ
¸÷åéò êé åóý äá ôüóåò ôñýðåò, êÜôé îÝñåéò
Êé ü÷é ìïíÜ÷á áðü ôïýôá ìá êé áð' ô' Üëëá
Ôá ìáêñéíÜ êé Ýîù áð' ôï óðßôé üôáí
ÁðÜíù óôçí ôáñÜôóá ìïõ êáìþíåóáé
Ðùò âãÜæåéò ìåò áð' ôï êáðÝëï óïõ êáðíü êáé ôÝôïéá êüëðá
Ôï íïéþèù, áêïýò, ìõñßæåéò, âëÝðåéò, îÝñåéò ãéá
Ôá ôñõöåñÜ ðïäÜñéá ôçò âñï÷Þò, ãéá ôïõò áããÝëïõò
Ðïõ ÷ïñåýïõí êáé óôñïâéëßæïíô' á-
ëáöñïðáôþíôáò ìå
ÍéöÜäåò ÷éïíéïý, ãéá ôï áßíéãìá
Ôçò ïìß÷ëçò
Óôçí ðüëç ðïõ ãßíåô' ç
Óôïé÷åéùìÝíç ÷þñá ôïõ äñÜêïíôá. Óüìðá
Ðïõ õøþíåéò ôï âñá÷ßïíÜ óïõ áðü ìðïõñéÜ êáé... Óüìðá
¢óå ìå ôþñá íá ãõñßóù ôçí êáñäéÜ óïõ óôï ìçäÝí
¢óå í' áêïýù îáðëùìÝíïò óôï óêïôÜäé
Ôçò óõóôïëÞò óïõ åêåßíï ôï
ÓêïõñéáóìÝíï ìåñìÞãêéáóìá ð' üëï ÷Üíåôáé,
Åíþ ï íïõò ìïõ âáóéëåýåé êáé ïëüêëçñïò
ÂïõëéÜæù ìåò óôïí ýðíï êé åîáãíßæïìáé.

______________________Èåóóáëïíßêç 1974



×ÁÑÏÕÌÅÍÏ ÔÑÁÃÏÕÄÉ (ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÌÁÍÈÑÁÓÐÅÍÔÁ) ÉÔÁËÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ




×ÁÑÏÕÌÅÍÏ ÔÑÁÃÏÕÄÉ

_____I

¸ñ÷åôáé ç öùíÞ ìïõ Üíåìïò ôïõ áðåßñïõ.
¸ñ÷åôáé ç öùíÞ ìïõ öïñôùìÝíç ôçí
______________áñóåíéêÞ
Ãýñç ôùí Üóôñùí· Ýñ÷åôáé
Óôï ëïõëïýäé ôïõ íïõ óïõ.

_____ÉÉ

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Üêñç ìéáò
Áéùíéüôçôáò.
Ìå ðñïâéÜ êáé ìå Ýêóôáóç
Ì' Ýíá êïììÜôé óåëçíüöùôï óôï ìÝôùðï
______________êáé ì' Ýíá êÝñáôï óôç æþíç
Ìå ìíÞìåò áðü ðÜ÷íç êé áðü öùôéÜ
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Üêñç ìéáò
Áéùíéüôçôáò.
¢öçóá ôá ÷íÜñéá ìïõ ðÜíù óôïí
Ðçëü ôïõ öùôüò.
Öüñåóá ôç èùñéÜ ôïõ íåñïý.
Öüñåóá ôç äõóêéíçóßá ôùí ïóôñáêüäåñìùí.
Âüóêçóá ôïõò áíÝìïõò êé åîçìÝñùóá ôïõò Þ÷ïõò.
¸æçóá ôïõ ëýêïõ ôçí Ýêóôáóç
ÌðñïóôÜ óôïí ðÜãï êáé óôç öùôéÜ.
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Üêñç ìéáò
Áéùíéüôçôáò.
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Ýñçìï ôùí Üóôñùí.


_____ÉÉÉ

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Ýñçìï ôùí Üóôñùí.
Ìïíá÷éêüò âáäßæù åñçìþíïíôáò ôï ìÝëëïí.
Óôåñåýïõí ïé ðçãÝò ôçò ðëÜíçò ôá ðÜíôá îçñáßíïíôáé.
Ðëïýóéá áðëþíåôáé ç Üììïò êáé ìïíÜ÷á ç Üììïò
×þñïò ãéá ðåñéóóüôåñç óêÝøç
×þñïò ãéá ðåñéóõëëïãÞ êé åëåõèåñßá
×þñïò ôïõ Üäåéïõ êáé ôçò öùôéÜò.
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü êåé üðïõ ðçãáßíåôå
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Ýñçìï ôùí Üóôñùí.
Ìïíá÷éêüò öõôñþíù ìåò óôçí Ýñçìï ôùí ëáþí. ¿ñéìïò
¹ëéïò
ÃÝñíù áðü ãýñç óïößáò.



ÐÁÑÁÌÕÈÉ (ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ Ï ÊÁÈÑÅÖÔÇÓ ÔÏÕ ÐÑÙÔÅÁ) ÓËÁÂÏÌÁÊÅÄÏÍÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ




ÐÁÑÁÌÕÈÉ

Åß÷åò ìåò óôïí êáèñÝöôç ô' ïõñáíïý ôïí Þëéï óþìá óïõ
âñÜäéáóå ðéÜ êáé êïììáôéÜóôçêåò óå Üóôñá.
"Êé üìùò ï ïõñáíüò åßíáé áõëÞ êáé ô' Üóôñá óðüñïé
ðïõ åãþ èá ôïõò ìáæÝøù ôçí áõãÞ".
Åßðå ï êüêêïñáò êé áíÝâçêå óôç ñÜ÷ç ôçò äñáêüíôéáò ñßæáò íá êïõñíéÜóåé.



ÓÔÏ ÐÁÍÇÃÕÑÉ ÔÏÕ ÏÓÔÅÑÌÏÍÁÈ
(ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÐÏÉÇÌÁÔÁ ÊÅÍÔÇÌÁÔÁ)
ÅÂÑÁÚÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ





























 



ÓÔÏ ÐÁÍÇÃÕÑÉ ÔÏÕ ÏÓÔÅÑÌÏÍÁÈ

Navies óôï áÝñá visae sunt
óôá 763 ì.×. ÖùíÜæïõí
èÝëïõí íá ðåßóïõí üôé åßíáé ðïéçôÝò. Ìá ìüëéò
ìéëÞóåé ï ðïéçôÞò áêïýò íá ëÝíå:
"Ðùò äåí ôá åßäáìå áõôÜ; Ðùò äåí ôá åßðáìå;" 'Ç ëÝíå
"Èá '÷åé åíôñõöÞóåé óå âéâëßá ìáãéêÜ, ðáñÜîåíá, èá îÝñåé ãëþóóåò". Êé ïýôå êáí
õðïøéÜæïíôáé ðþò üëá åßí' áðëÜ: Ï ðïéçôÞò
ðÞãå óôï ðáíçãýñé ôïõ Ïóôåñìüíáè, êáé...

á ðçäç÷ôåßôå ðïõ èá ðù óå óáò
ôé Ýêáíå ï ðïéçôÞò óôï ðáíçãýñé ôïõ Ïóôåñìüíáè.

______________________Èåóóáëïíßêç 1979



ÂÉÂËÉÏ ÊÏÓÌÏÓ (ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÍÁÏÓ ÔÏÕ ÊÏÓÌÏÕ) ÁÑÁÂÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ




ÂÉÂËÉÏ ÊÏÓÌÏÓ

¸íá âéâëßï ìüíï Ý÷åé ãñáöôåß
êé Ý÷åé ãñáöôåß ìå ðñÜãìáôá êé ü÷é ìå ëüãéá.

¸íá âéâëßï ìüíï Ý÷åé ãñáöôåß
êé Ý÷åé ãñáöôåß áðü ôïí Êüóìï ìå ôïí Êüóìï ãéá ôïí Êüóìï.

Ï Êüóìïò åßíáé ôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ.

_____*
ÔÝëïò äåí Ý÷åé ï Êüóìïò ïýôå áñ÷Þ*
ìá ï ðïéçôÞò áðïêáëýðôïíôáò ôïí Êüóìï
åßíáé óá íá ôïí öêéÜ÷íåé áð' ôçí áñ÷Þ.

_____*
ÕðÜñ÷åé ìüíï Ýíá âéâëßï íá äéáâáóôåß
êáé ôïýôï åßíáé ôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ.

_____*
ÃñÜöù èá ðåé äéáâÜæù ôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ.
¼ëá ìïõ ôá ãñáöôÜ äåí åßíáé ðáñÜ ìüíï õðïãñáììßóåéò óôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ·
üëá ìïõ ôá ãñáöôÜ äåí åßíáé ðáñÜ ìüíï óçìåéþóåéò, æùãñáöéÝò,
óôá ðåñéèþñéá ôùí óåëßäùí ôïõ.

Ãñáöù èá ðåé ðùò äåß÷íù óôïõò áíèñþðïõò
ðùò ðñïóðáèþ íá ìïéñáóôþ ìáæß ôïõò
ôçí ïìïñöéÜ Þ ôç öñßêç ðïõ äéáâÜæù óôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ.

Ãéáôß êáíÝíáò äåí áíôÝ÷åé íá äéáâÜæåé ìüíïò ôï âéâëßï ôïõ Êüóìïõ.



ÅÐÉÓÊÅØÇ(ÁÐÏ ÔÇ ÓÕËËÏÃÇ ÍÁÏÓ ÔÏÕ ÊÏÓÌÏÕ) ÊÉÍÅÆÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ




ÅÐÉÓÊÅØÇ

Ôïí åðéóêÝöôçêá ìéá ãêñßæá ìÝñá
ãêñßæá óáí áóçìÝíéï íüìéóìá ðáëéü.
ÐÜôçóá ôï êïõìðß ôïõ áóáíóÝñ ãéá ñåôéñÝ.
ÁõôÞ ç áíÜëçøç. Ôïí âñÞêá
ìåò óå âõæáíôéíÜ åéêïíßóìáôá . Èõìïýìáé
ôçí êüêêéíç êïõâÝñôá üðïõ îÜðëùíå
Ê' åß÷å ðñïóêÝöáëü ôïõ ìéá öùëéÜ áðü ðÝñäéêá. Äåí îÝñù
áí õðáéíßóóïíôáí ì' áõôü ðùò ôï êåöÜëé ôïõ
Åßíáé ôï èåßï áõãü Þ ðùò öïñïýóå
åíá óôåöÜíé áðü îåñÜ áãñéï÷üñôáñá. Ôïõ åßðá
"ôá ðÜíôá ìáôáéüôçò êáé ìïõ áðÜíôçóå
"üëá, ê' ç ìáôáéüôçò äçëáäÞ". Êáé ðÞãá ôüôå
ìðñïò óôïí êáèñÝöôç êáé êïéôÜ÷ôçêá. ÐáñÜîåíï.
ÌïéÜæáìå ôüóï åãþ êé åêåßíïò ðïõ ôïí ñþôçóá:
"Ìçí åßóáé ôÜ÷á ï ÐáôÞñ ê' åßì' ï Õéüò;". Êé áõôüò ìïõ åßðå:
'¼ëá ôïýôá
íüìéóìá åßíáé. Ê' ç ÁëÞèåéá
åßíáé ç èåßá Üëç, åßíáé ç ðëÜíç ôùí èåþí. ÐáñÜôçóÝ ôá".



ÐÏÉÇÌÁ ÓÔÁ ÓÅÑÂÉÊÁ







ÁÐÏÓÐÁÓÌÁ ÁÐÏ ÔÏ ÐÏÉÇÌÁ ÅÑ×ÏÌÁÉ (ÍÁÏÓ ÔÏÕ ÊÏÓÌÏÕ) ÁÃÃËÉÊÁ, ÂÏÕËÃÁÑÉÊÁ, ÃÁËËÉÊÁ, ÃÅÑÌÁÍÉÊÁ, ÖÉÍËÁÍÄÉÊÁ ÊÁÉ ÅËËÇÍÉÊÁ


 

 

ÅÑ×ÏÌÁÉ

Äåí îÝñù áí ï Ñßôóïò Þ ï ¼ìçñïò
åßíáé ðïõ ì' Ýðåéóå íá ìðù óôïí Äïýñåéï ºððï
Ý÷ïíôáò ìüíï Ýíá óðáèß êé Ýíáí êáèñÝöôç.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí Ýñçìï åêåß üðïõ Þ Üììïò
åßíáé Þ óõíôñéâÞ êÜèå ìïñöÞò.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôéò ¢ñêôïõò, êïõâáëþíôáò
Ýíá ôóïõâÜëé Üóôñá êáé êñáôþíôáò
óôï ÷Ýñé ìïõ ìéá ìÜóêá öåããáñéïý.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôï êáëýâé ôï ðëåãìÝíï ì' áóôñáðüêëáäá.
¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü 'íá óðßôé êáìùìÝíï áðü êáèñÝöôåò.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôï öáñÜããé ôï êõñôü üðùò óðáèß
ìéóü áðü ÷éüíé êáé ìéóü áðü ëïõëïýäéá.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôéò ü÷èåò ôïõ âïõíßóéïõ ðïôáìïý
åêåß ðïõ êáôáññÜ÷ôåò áóêçôÝò
óôÝêïíôáé üñèéïé ìåò óôá ðÝôñéíá ðéèÜñéá.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôï ÂïññÜ· ìå ðáãïðÝäéëá
äõï ìéóïöÝããáñá ãëéóôñïýóá äéáñêþò
ðÜíù óôá ÷éüíéá ôñåéò ÷éëéÜäåò ÷ñüíéá.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôùí ÔáôÜñùí ôéò ïñäÝò· åßìáé ï óôñáôéþôçò
ðïý 'óöáîå ôïí ÁôôÜñ ê' åßìáé åðßóçò
ï ßäéïò ï ÁôôÜñ êáé ôï ìá÷áßñé ðïý ôïí Ýóöáîå.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôï ìáýñï ãáëáîßá ôùí ìõñìçãêéþí ðïõ ðáñáóÝñíåé
ìéá ðåôáëïýäá ðåèáìÝíç óá íá åßíáé
éóôéïöüñï áããÝëïõ óá íá åßíáé
ï ºêáñïò ìåôÜ áðü ôçí ðôþóç ôïõ.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôçí ÅëëÜäá ðïõ ìå ÷Ýñé
ôçí Ðåëïðüííçóï îáìþíåé êáé óêïñðÜ
ãýñù ôçò ôá íçóéÜ ãéá íá ìçí åßíáé
ìüíç ôçò áðëùìÝíç ìåò óôç èÜëáóóá.


¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôçí ôñýðá åíüò óÜðéïõ êëùíáñéïý
üðïõ éåñïõñãïýóá ìå óôïëÞ Üãñéáò ìÝëéóóáò
åßôå öïñïýóá Üìöéá ðåôáëïýäáò.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áðü ôï óïýñïõðï åêåé
ôçò Èåôôáëßáò, ïðïý âüóêçóá
ãéá ÷ßëéá ÷ñüíéá Ýíá êïðÜäé áðü öùôéÝò.

¸ñ÷ïìáé áð' ôï âéâëßï ôïõ Áíáîßìáíäñïõ· ó' áõôü
âñßóêïìáé ðÜíôá üðïõ êé áí ðçãáßíù.

Ìå ñþôçóáí áðü ðïõ Ýñ÷ïìáé.
________Ôé íá ôïõò Ýëåãá;
Äåí èá ìå êáôáëÜâáéíáí
________êáé ôüôå
èá ì' ïäçãïýóáíå äåìÝíï óôïí øõ÷ßáôñï.

"¸ñ÷ïìáé" åßðá, Ýôóé áðëÜ, "áð ôï Áãñßíéï",
êñýâïíôáò ìåò ôç ëÝîç áõôÞ üóï ìðïñïýóá
ôï "Üãñéïò", ôï "íé", êáé ðñï ðáíôüò
ôï "ï", ðïý 'íáé ðçãÜäé êáé ðáãßäá,
óðßôé ìïõ êáé êáèñÝöôçò êáé ëáâýñéíèïò (ìá íáé
ï ðéï ðïëýðëïêïò ëáâýñéíèïò êé áò öáßíåôáé
ôüóï áðëü, Ýíá ìéêñü äá÷ôõëéäÜêé).

______________________Èåóóáëïíßêç 1994

________________
_____ÌåôáöñáóôÝò: Óôá éóðáíéêÜ ÄÜöíç ÁëåîÜíäñïõ - Áíôüíéï ÌðåíÝúôï, óôá ñùóéêÜ Óüíéá Éëßíóêáãéá, óôá éôáëéêÜ Óáíôæßëéï ÊñåóÝíôóéï, óôá óëáâïìáêåäüíéêá ÐáóêÜë Ãêßëåöóêé, óôá åâñáúêÜ ÑÜìé ÓÜáñé, óôá áñáâéêÜ ×Üóáí ÌðáíôÜïõé, óôá êéíÝæéêá Ãïõåú ×ï, óôá óåñâéêÜ ÉâÜí ÃêáæÜíóêé, óôá áããëéêÜ Íôüëõ ÍôáëêÜ, óôá âïõëãÜñéêá ÓôÝöáí ÃêÝôóåö, óôá ãáëëéêÜ Æáí-Êëþíô Âéëëáßí - ÊùíóôÜíò ÍôéìÜ, óôá ãåñìáíéêÜ Ãéþñãïò Ëßëçò - ÌÜñèá ÑïõóÜêé, Nßêç ÁíôåíÜïõåñ, óôá öéíëáíäéêÜ ÑÝãéá ÔÜííéíåí.
 


 

 

POETRY ON THE ROAD: FROM THE GERMAN ANTHOLOGY

 

“…selten in unserer Zeit haben wir das Glück, solche dichten, wesentlichen Verse zu lesen, die darüber hinaus so genau in der Ausdrucksweise sind“, schrieb bereits 1980 der grosse griechische Dichter Jannis Ritsos über die Gedichte von Yannis Yfantis.

Yannis Yfantis ist ein guter Kenner der Vorsokratiker, ein Bewunderer der griechischen, aber auch der östlichen Mythologie und Übersetzer zahlreicher Dichtwerke aus verschiedenen Sprachen.

Yannis Yfantis ist kein Schreibtischdiechter. Auf seinen vielen Reisen sammelt er Bilder, Eindrücke und Weisheit die er sich zu eigen macht und in Dichtung verwandelt. Seine Gedichte sind exzentrisch und h und oft surrealistisch, man merkt ihnen an, dass sie der Ertrag einer unermüdlichen und ununterbrochenen Lebensaufgabe sind; seine Lyrik wird kontrovers diskutiert - wobei gerade die anerkanntesten Dichter Griechenlands ihn uneingeschränkt bewundern.

Yfantis Wurde 1995 in Kairo der „Kavafis - Preis“ verliehen. Einzelne Gedichte von ihm wurden in verschiedene Sprachen der Welt übersetzt und in literarischen Zeitschriften publiziert. Hauptwerke u.a.: Manthraspenta; Der Spiegel des Proteus; Zeichen unsterblicher Erinnerung; Gedichte-Stickereien auf des Teufels Haut; Archetypen; Das Ideogramm der Schlange; O Eros, du allsiegender Gott!; Die Verwandlungen der Null (Eine Gesamtausgabe seiner edierten und unedierten Werke).

 

Niki Eideneier

 

KLEINE WESEN

 

Kleine Wesen, die ihr euch in den Wäldern meines Leibs verheddert oder durch mein

offenes Buch rennt oder verloren geht

im Chaos meines Tisches oder im Moos eines Felsens, oder die ich auf einer Blume entdecke, wenn ihr Weisheit sammelt und Sonnenstaub; Wasserwesen,

Erdwesen oder Federwesen, Wesen der Nacht

Spielsachen der Mondengel, auf eurer Haut der Stempel des Dunkels,

Körnchen der Schöpfung, die ihre doch auch Antennen tragt des Untertons

und Radarempfänger des Grünen oder auch des Graus, Wesen,

manchmal mit einem Bräunlichen geflickten Sack geschultert und ein andermal

mit einer Muschel um den Hals Ebenbild der Zeit oder mit einem mittelalterlichen

Schild oder

mit der Hörner tragenden Maske eine Sonnenkriegers; kleine Wesen,

wo doch auf euren Flügeln die Sterne sitzen der Erinnerung und auch rote

Kreise, kleine Jahre und Zahlen, Verwandlungen der Null oder

Momente, die Nägel sind auf dem Tor der Ischtar eingeschlagen; Wesen des Tages,

Spielsachen dr Sonnenengel mit dem Stempel des Lichts, grosse Wesen,

die ihr euch verliebt und sterbt ohne zu wissen

ohne wissen zu wollen, wer ich bin, wohin ich gehe und was ich will,

indem ich hier diese schwarzen Knochen meines Denkens aufreihe.

 

Aus: „Manthraspenta“, 1977

 

 

 

MEINE SEELE IST BETRÜBT BIS AN DEN TOD

 

Warum lieben sich auf dieser Vase zwei Leiber so armutig

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod.

 

Warum beisst in diesem ein Taxi an diesem Sarg, als wäre er eine Zigarre

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod.

 

Warum steigen jene Stufen im Spiegel hinab und erreichen so den Ort, wo die

Seitenansicht des Mondes begraben liegt

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod.

 

Warum haben in dieser Welt alle ihr Heim und bin nur ich der Fremde, der seinen Stamm verloren hat und auch seinen Weg

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod.

 

Warum irre ich mich ausserhalb deiner Gebärmutter und ausserhalb meines Grabs

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod.

meine Seele ist betrübt an den Tod. 

 

Aus: „Der Spiegel des Proteus“, 1986

 

 

 

DER PARKPLATZ

 

Mir Kommt zu Ohren die Menschen

sehr häufig an Infarkt sterben

oder an Hirnplatz finden, Ja, sie finden keinen Parkplatz.

Jemand, einer mit dem amtlichen ABCDHGIKLM

 9.009.843.211.507.9887

hat ganz Frankreich abgesucht, nichts hat er gefunden,

er stieg die Alpen hoch, nichts, fuhr hinunter nach Italien, kam

bis zum Ätna, der Vulkan

vollständig besetzt, fuhr nach Rom, Venedig, erreichte da oden

Belgrad, kam nach Skopje, fuhr durch

bis Istanbul, endlich

fand er etwas in Kurdistan und parkte hoch oben

auf einem Baum.

Doch das war der Baum des Himmels

da parken nur die Toten

 

Aus: „Unter de Ikone der Sterne“, 2006

 

 

 

DIE ENTHÜLLUNG DER LEER

 

Mein Leib, ich sorge so gut es geht für dich

ich wasche dich, füttre dich, tränke dich, lege dich schlafen,

ich gewähre dir Genüsse und ich trimm’ dich

dass du stramm und biegsam und leichtfüssig bleibst.

Ich färbe dir den Bart, putze dir kräftig die Zähne,

schneide dir die den Nägel, ich führe dich

vor solche Wesen, die sich dir überlassen, ohne dich zu kontrollieren.

Mein Leib, ich sorge für dich so gut es geht.

Bis der grosse Fremde kommt, der Offizier, der Herrschen des Himmels

um dich wie ein Sackleinen wegzuziehen und somit

die Enthüllung der Leere zu vollbringen.

 

Aus „Tempel der Welt“, 1996

 

 

 

Die hier abgedruckten Gedichte sind diversen Bänden entnommen und wurden extra für poetry on the road von Niki Eideneier übersetzt. Abdruck mit freundlicher Genehmigung

 


THE BOOK OF COSMOS IN PERSIAN (Iranian)

 

ΑναφορÜ στην ισπανικÞ ιστοσελßδα el-placard.blogspot.com.es :
http://el-placard.blogspot.com.es/search/label/Yannis%20Yfantis

 

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