Demos Moutsis / Δήμος Μούτσης

I found myself in a dark circle in the dream I had last night
and I was on one side of the circle and on the other
and I was on one side of the circle and on the other
ready to answer myself and to ask again
and afterwards I got lost, far away in orchards full of flowers,
in company with dervishes around the fire, dancing and singing
eyvallah*, dancing and singing, eyvallah, dancing and singing.

And I saw a child, a little child who was playing and beat me at dice
my kiss of later passion, my first childish caresses
and there in that moment I heard the singing inside me,
sleep and death together, songs of my eros,
and later, suddenly, again, I got lost in orchards full of flowers,
in company with dervishes around the fire, dancing and singing
eyvallah, dancing and singing.

And I saw our hopes as shadows, walking silently towards me,
symbols, marks and secret shapes of this vain world
and twenty dark centuries finally reached their end now
and from one world to another, finally, we pass, they say, hour by hour
and later, suddenly, again, I got lost in orchards full of flowers,
in company with dervishes around the fire, dancing and singing
eyvallah, dancing and singing, eyvallah, dancing and singing.

I found myself in a dark circle in the dream I had last night
and I was on one side of the circle and on the other
Tell me what is it that I see here, I managed to ask myself,
don’t speak, just look and pass by, he said and I left my dream.

(translation: Eva Johanos
*eyvallah: expression of ecstatic surrender to God; Arabic)

Βρέθηκα σε κύκλο σκοτεινό στ’ όνειρο που είδα χθες το βράδυ
κι ήμουνα απ’ τη μια του κύκλου εγώ κι εγώ από την άλλη
πες μου τι είν’ αυτά που βλέπω εδώ, πρόφτασα να πω στον εαυτό μου,
μη μιλάς μον’ κοίτα και πέρνα λέει αυτός και βγήκα από τ’ όνειρό μου.

A harmonica that cries
with the breath of a child
A sign of this time
that frightens us and burns us

A harmonica that cries
is our own presence
listening to the anthem as it says
“hail oh hail to you, liberty”

And our voices are in the air~*
truth, what is the truth
when you live as you do, in a habitual routine
day after day

A harmonica that cries
they break the statues into pieces
souls that cry out for help
with their eyes wide open

And the sky covering us
A harmonica that cries
and we, with no suspicion** and fine
in a miracle that is sinking

Few are good, and those were fated to be so
resigned, deep down~
oh, with what intensity and passion become
the first the last

A harmonica that cries
I follow your footsteps
in the emptiness of the world
and I come close beside you.

(translation: Eva Johanos
*voices in/on the air~ has multiple meanings, including to be broadcast, to be heard, as well as to be without foundation, without basis in fact, and also without aim, without purpose, lost
**ανυποψίαστοι~ has a double meaning: both unsuspected and unsuspecting, not blamed and without a clue)

Μια φυσαρμόνικα που κλαίει
ακολουθώ τα βήματά σου
μέσα στην ερημιά του κόσμου
κι έρχομαι πλάι εκεί κοντά σου

Death came prowling, prowling the streets
of my own neighbourhood
and from too much reckoning
he lost count…

and from a low doorway
and from a dark yard
stealthily, stealthily the smith came out
the smith came and spoke to him words of joy
Death went prowling, prowling the streets
of my own neighborhood

Death came prowling, prowling the streets
and swept the neighbourhood
black skies came up
and a windstorm and smoke.

and from a low doorway
and from a dark yard
stealthily, stealthily the smith came out
the smith came and spoke to him words of joy
Death went prowling, prowling the streets
of my own neighborhood

The light wagon went in front
and the urchin, from wall to wall
it didn’t happen in those years
for me to have luck in anything

They are lighting fires in the neighborhoods
for St. John’s [Day], ah how many you know and you tell me
ah how many of these you know and you tell me
who have died

They put me on the crest
on the wild wave
of the destruction of Smyrna
in injustice and crime

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Tell her with a ukulele
some phonograph whines
tell me- what to tell her, my Christ
now I have become used to being alone

Tell her with a ukulele
words for words and more words
love where is your church
I’m tired by now of being in the fields*

Ach, if our life was on the level
how we would get by forever after
but fate decreed differently
now it must take a sharp turn

Supposedly we will find solace
the day became night
everything is night- everything is night
something we will find- zeta, zeta**

Tell her with a ukulele
I see her red nails
how they will shine near the fire
and I remember her with a cough.

(translation: Eva Johanos
*fields, farmlands belonging to the church
**zeta- the letter “z”, which resembles the verb “seek” in the imperative, and has other resonances: begging, “long live”. . .)

I shall bring you violins, and a sweet little drum, to play for you,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

Between us, as you see, the margins are narrowing
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

The burnt towns, the dead children, I remember the blood as well,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear,

and my own life, with no meaning with no voice and with empty eyes,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

Watch out!* Watch out! And the mercenaries who are governing you…
Watch out! Watch out! … those same ones will be sentencing you tomorrow,
and “Hail to you, Caesar who are going to die”* they will tell you.
As the saying is “et preterea censeo Carthago delenda est”*.

You frighten me like the shouts from the stadiums and like the flags,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

I watch you in fear, keeping my feelers drawn in,
Ach Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

Watch out! Watch out! And the mercenaries who are governing you…
Watch out! Watch out!… those same ones will be sentencing you tomorrow,
and “Hail to you, Caesar who are going to die”* they will tell you.
As the saying is “et preterea censeo Carthago delenda est”.

You frighten me like the shouts from the stadiums and like the flags,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear.

and you fall in love there without colour, without odour, without myth
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear,

Watch out! Watch out! And the mercenaries who are governing you…
Watch out! Watch out!… those same ones will be sentencing you tomorrow,
and “Hail to you, Caesar who are going to die”* they will tell you.
As the saying is “et preterea censeo Carthago delenda est”.

But I – I shall bring you violins, and a sweet little drum, to play for you,
Erinoula dear, Erinoula dear…

[Translator’s notes:
* Watch out! Watch out!: separately, the words “πέφτει σύρμα” are “wire falling”, but as an expression, they are used as a warning of approaching danger.
* Hail to you, Caesar… : In the Roman gladiator fights, the combatants would salute the emperor with “Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant”, meaning “Hail Caesar, those who are about to die salute you”. By simply changing the case of “morituri” (or here its Greek counterpart, μελλοθάνατοι), the “about to die” is applied to the emperor instead of the one who speak to him.
* “et preterea censeo Carthago delenda est”[ "Furthermore, (moreover) I consider that Carthage must be destroyed"]: abbreviated quote from the Roman statesman Cato, famous for his virtue and his stuffiness, who is reputed to have ended his every speech with this sentence, until he got his way and Rome waged total war against Carthage.]

Αλλά εγώ Θα σου πάρω βιολιά και ένα ντέφι γλυκό να σου παίζουν
Ερηνούλα μου, Ερηνούλα μου..

You are not saying a word,
you keep hidden secrets and documents
and I hear only
the metallic signals of the microphones

I know your name
your image and again from the beginning,
I am looking for an exit, searching
for a different life

The nights are passing by,
the seconds move heavily on the minute hands
asking for something
that does not turn into scream and illusion

I know your name
your image and again from the beginning,
I am looking for an exit, searching
for a different life

In the loneliness
of the kilometers and in the silence of the chronometers
now you can hear
sirens, transports and ambulances

I know your name
your image and again from the beginning,
I am looking for an exit, searching
for a different life

Ξέρω τ’ όνομά σου
την εικόνα σου και πάλι από την αρχή
ψάχνω για μια διέξοδο γυρεύοντας
μια αλλιώτικη ζωή…

What song can I sing for you
as my mouth is bitter
my words a sigh
a tune of complaint

My young man, what train
passed and made you jealous?
My sun, you got tired
and set early

With what heart can I sing
since I have sorrow in my breast
Many troubles have found us
the hail of heavy winter

(translation: Eva Johanos)