Dedicate Bush a poem!

[Az]

I sincerely hope I wasn't the reason you suddendly felt all sleepy

no, I realized that arguing about a dead greek poet at 1:30AM is... well, lame.

Axi: I just name them like I see them. I only made my impression of the poem without previous knowledge. And from that poem, what I can see is that he's was a pessimist ( but that only means that he's didn't like what was going on at the time. ).
I can also see that he thinks that jews are bad.
Of course, we claim that the rest of the poem puts important things on the table, but that doesn't change the fact that the guy was prejudiced against jews.


Anyway, is he your national poet or something?

[axi]

No the guy was totally overlooked for more than 50 years, because romantism went out of fashion by 1930. He, along with Kavafis, was overshadowed by a generation of surrealists, including Seferis and Elytis.

Only in the latest years have we begun to give him recognition.

Btw, a pessimist never ever becomes a national poet.

Although I have read most of his poems, this is the only mention of Jews I ever found...

[axi]

example of his writing: "So I went back to my hotel, and a student came to tell me she liked my books, so I ****ed her"

Incomplete. You forgot to say that he had only 3 bottles of wine that evening, so at least he was not so drunk as to not have an erection. However, the next morning he found out that he had a terrible headache and that he got pissed in his sleep. That didn't stop him from going gambling to the horsetracks though.

[Bereta_Eder]

Originally posted by Azazel
Anyway, is he your national poet or something?

Nah, that would be Dionysios Solomos.
He's the guy who wrote the national anthem (158 verses long ) called Hymn to Liberty.

Speaking of which here's two different translations of the same first verses in Greek.

1.

I know you by the sharp blade

of your terrifying sword,

I know you by the form you made

taking the earth as victor lord.

Sprung from Grecian bones scattered

hallowed on every vale,

with your old valor unshatterd,

Liberty, hail to you, hail!

Yes, but your sons, your offspring

now fight with all their breath,

and unseasingly are seeking

either victory or death.

2.

I shall always recognise you

By the dreadful sword you hold,

As the earth, with searching vision,

You survey, with spirit bold.

'Twas the Greeks of old whose dying

Brought to birth our spirit free.

Now, with ancient valour rising,

Let us hail you, oh Liberty!

As said, poetry is not translated but rewritten

[Bereta_Eder]

Originally posted by axi


Incomplete. You forgot to say that he had only 3 bottles of wine that evening, so at least he was not so drunk as to not have an erection. However, the next morning he found out that he had a terrible headache and that he got pissed in his sleep. That didn't stop him from going gambling to the horsetracks though.

Yep. The guy is so ****ed up

[Az]

didn't you just say that he was great at page 1?

[Bereta_Eder]

err no...?!


unless you consider that great...

BTW Bukowski is one sick old porn man.

I read two of his books. There are all about screwing and a faux sence of "escaping" the microastiki (lower middle class?) mentality of security, order and conservative values.

example of his writing: "So I went back to my hotel, and a student came to tell me she liked my books, so I ****ed her"

And that theme (even written exactly the same) seems to encompass 90% of the 2 books of him I read.

Better go with Vocacius - more diversity and more interesting


Didn't know he wrote "poetry" too

[Az]

Bukowsky!=Karyotakis

[Bereta_Eder]

[Az]

That doll in the background is about to kill the pretty underage girl, that looks like a boy in the picture, right?

[Bereta_Eder]

Nope. It's her toy which she leaves behind but still haunts her and a symbol of her youngfulness

[Bereta_Eder]

BTW if you think she looks like a boy you're the second pedophile after Drake in Poly


and now a sample by Elytis

DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF CONSTANTINOS PALAEOLOGOS
by
Odysseas Elytis

As he stood there erect before the Gate
and impregnable in his sorrow
Far from the world where his spirit sought
to bring Paradise to his measure
And harder even than stone
for no one had ever looked
on him tenderly - at times his crooked teeth
whitened strangely

And as he passed by with his gaze a little
beyond mankind and from them all
extracted One who smiled on him
The Real one
Whom death could never seize

He took care to pronounce the word
sea clearly that all the dolphins
within it might shine
And the desolation so great it might
contain all of God
and every waterdrop ascending steadfastly toward
the sun

As a young man he had seen gold glittering
and gleaming on the shoulders of the great
And one night
he remembers
during a great storm the neck of the sea
roared so it turned murky
but he would not submit to it

The world's an oppressive place to live through
yet with a little pride it's worth it.

II

Dear God what now
Who had to battle with thousands
and not only his loneliness
Who?
He who knew with a single word
how to slake the thirst of entire worlds
What?

From whom they had taken everything
And his sandals with their criss-crossed
straps and his pointed trident
and the wall he mounted every afternoon like
an unruly and pitching boat
to hold the reigns against the weather

And a handful of vervain
which he had rubbed on a girl's cheek
at midnight
to kiss her
(how the waters of the moon gurled
on the stone steps three cliff-lengths
above the sea...)

Noon out of night
And not one person by his side
Only his faithful words that mingled
all their colors to leave in his hand
a lance of white light

And opposite
along the whole wall's length
a host of heads poured in plaster
as far as his eyes could see

"Noon out of night - all life a radiance!"
he shouted and rushed into the horde
dragging behind him an endless golden line

And at once he felt
the final pallor
overmastering him
as it hastened from afar.

III

Now
as the sun's wheel turned more and more swiftly
the courtyards plunged into winter and once
again emerged red from the geranium

And the small cool domes
like blue medusae
reached each time higher to the silverwork
the wind so delicately worked as a painting
for other times more distant

Virgin maidens
their breasts glowing a summer dawn
brought him branches of fresh palm leaves
and those of the myrtle uprooted
from the depths of the sea

Dripping iodine
While under his feet he heard
the prows of black ships
sucked into the great whirlpool
the ancient and smoked seacraft
from which still erect with riveted gaze
the Mothers of God stood rebuking

Horses overturned on dumpheaps
a rabble of buildings large and small
debris and dust flaming in the air

And there lying prone
always with an unbroken word
between his teeth
Himself
the last of the Hellenes!

[axi]

didn't you just say that he was great at page 1?

That comment was for me. I am a Bukowski fan. And yes, I like him exactly because he's decadent.

You're rather te patriotic type, aren't you paik? I was going to say that our national poet is Palamas and of course I could find a more meaningful sample of Elytis's poetry somewhere in "Aksion Esti" or in "O Ilios o Iliatoras"...

[Bereta_Eder]

Originally posted by axi
You're rather te patriotic type, aren't you paik?

Ka8olou. Aplos me diaskedasei na tous trollaro (wow ti lexi!) pou kai pou

[axi]

Ores ores to parakaneis...