Πέμπτη, 10 Σεπτεμβρίου 2015

Δευτέρα, 27 Ιουλίου 2015

Julia de Burgos

No abandonment

The darkness died in my eyes,
since I found your heart
on the window of my ailing face.
Oh bird of love,
trilling deep, as a whole and lone bugler 
in the voice of my chest! 
There is no abandonment ...
nor will there be ever fear on my smile.
Oh bird of love,
swimming heaven in my sadness!
Beyond your eyes
my twilights dream of bathing in your lights ...
Is the mystery blue?
Leaning out I contemplate my rescue,
which brings me back to life on your gleam ...

photo: Silena

Παρασκευή, 12 Ιουνίου 2015

the morning.... moon!

Jorge Luis Borges
The Moon

There is such solitude in that gold.
The moon of these nights is not the moon
The first Adam saw. Long centuries
Of human vigil have filled her with
An old lament. See. She is your mirror.

Photo: Masao Yamamoto_Moon

Δευτέρα, 30 Μαρτίου 2015

Μίλτος Σαχτούρης

ἀπὸ τὴ συλλογή 


Διαρρῆχτες τοῦ ἥλιου
δὲν εἶδαν ποτέ τους πράσινο κλωνάρι
δὲν ἄγγιξαν φλογισμένο στόμα
δὲν ξέρουν τί χρῶμα ἔχει ὁ οὐρανὸς

Σὲ σκοτεινὰ δωμάτια κλεισμένοι
δὲν ξέρουν ἂν θὰ πεθάνουν
μὲ μαῦρες μάσκες καὶ βαριὰ τηλεσκόπια
μὲ τ᾿ ἄστρα στὴν τσέπη τους βρωμισμένα μὲ ψίχουλα
μὲ τὶς πέτρες τῶν δειλῶν στὰ χέρια
παραμονεύουν σ᾿ ἄλλους πλανῆτες τὸ φῶς

Νὰ πεθάνουν

Νὰ κριθεῖ κάθε Ἄνοιξη ἀπὸ τὴ χαρά της
ἀπὸ τὸ χρῶμα του τὸ κάθε λουλούδι
ἀπὸ τὸ χάδι του τὸ κάθε χέρι
ἀπ᾿ τ᾿ ἀνατρίχιασμά του τὸ κάθε φιλὶ

photo: Silena

Κυριακή, 8 Μαρτίου 2015

Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou
Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

photo: by Silena

Σάββατο, 17 Ιανουαρίου 2015

Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke
Der Schutzengel

Du bist der Vogel, dessen Flügel kamen,
wenn ich erwachte in der Nacht und rief.
Nur mit den Armen rief ich, denn dein Namen
ist wie ein Abgrund, tausend Nächte tief.
Du bist der Schatten, drin ich still entschlief,
und jeden Traum ersinnt in mir dein Samen, -
du bist das Bild, ich aber bin der Rahmen,
der dich ergänzt in glänzendem Relief.

Wie nenn ich dich? Sieh, meine Lippen lahmen.
Du bist der Anfang, der sich groß ergießt,
ich bin das langsame und bange Amen,
das deine Schönheit scheu beschließt.

Du hast mich oft aus dunklem Ruhn gerissen,
wenn mir das Schlafen wie ein Grab erschien
und wie Verlorengehen und Entfliehn, -
da hobst du mich aus Herzensfinsternissen
und wolltest mich auf allen Türmen hissen
wie Scharlachfahnen und wie Draperien.

Du: der von Wundern redet wie vom Wissen
und von den Menschen wie von Melodien
und von den Rosen: von Ereignissen,
die flammend sich in deinem Blick vollziehn, -
du Seliger, wann nennst du einmal Ihn,
aus dessen siebentem und letztem Tage
noch immer Glanz auf deinem Flügelschlage
verloren liegt...
Befiehlst du, dass ich frage?

Rainer Maria Rilke, 24.7.1899, Berlin-Schmargendorf


Rainer Maria Rilke
The Guardian Angel

You are the bird whose wings drew near,
when I woke in the night and cried.
I cried simply with my arms outstretched, since your name
is like an abyss that lasts a thousand nights.
You are the shadows in which I quietly slept
And in each dream your seeds develop in me, -
You are the image, while I am the frame
that completes you in shining relief.

How could I call you? Look, my lips are lame.
You are the beginning that bursts forth in such a wave,
I am the anxious, late Amen
that trails your beauty shyly.

You’ve often snatched me from a dark impasse
when sleep seemed like a grave to me,
like abandonment or flight, -
you lifted me out of the bitter gloom of my heart
and wanted to hoist me up over all towers
like scarlet streamers, like drapery.

You: who talk of miracles as we do of science,
of men and women as if of melodies
or of roses: of what’s been done
and the judgments which are issued in your burning eyes, -
Blessed one, when will you at last name Him,
from whose seventh and final day
there is an eternal Glory that rests,
lost, above your beating wings…
Will your will be what I ask?

By Rainer Maria Rilke

Translation, introduction and appendix essay: David Need

Σάββατο, 3 Ιανουαρίου 2015


To the land of the magic silence
© Silena, 2 Jan 2015

He lies like a dead tree
no birds on its branches
no sighs under its shadow
He lies like a dead 
A barricade of dreams
I'm going 
I'm going 
far away
to the land of the whispered love
to the land of the enchanted sounds
to the land of the exotic birds
I'm going 
far away
to the land of the magic silence

birds of wisdom
gouache on paper
© Silena