Yiannis Glezos / Γιάννης Γλέζος

Once you set out on your way to Ithaca,
wish that it should be a long road
full of adventures, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon do not fear,
for such as them on your path you will not find,
if your thought remains superior, if a refined
sentiment your spirit and your body touches.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the ferocious Poseidon you will not encounter,
if you do not carry them inside your soul,
if your soul does not stand them up in front of you.
Wish that it should be a long road
That many the summer mornings will be,
that with such pleasure, with such joy
you will be entering ports never seen before
be stopping over at Phoenician market places,
and the fine merchandise you will come to posses
mother-of-pearl and corals, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of every kind,
as many sensual perfumes as you possibly can,
to pay a visit to many Egyptian cities,
to learn and to learn from the educated.

Always keep Ithaca on your mind.
The arrival there is your destination.
But do not rush the voyage at all.
It is better that is should last for many years.
and as an old man to throw anchor at the island
rich with everything that you have gained on the way,
not expecting riches to be given you by Ithaca.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would not have gone out on the road.
She has no more things to give you.
And if poor you find her, Ithaca has not deceived you.
As wise as you have become, with such experience,
by now you must have realized what Ithacas mean.

At our doorstep they had stopped
our dreams
In our orchard we had planted
our heart

Don’t cry, little girl
time for joy
What we loved is never extinguished
what we loved will remain
what we watered will bloom

Behind the mountains, love does not die
it sets
behind the mountains, the sun does not die
it travels

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Πίσω απ’ τα βουνά, δεν πεθαίνει η αγάπη
βασιλεύει
πίσω απ’ τα βουνά δεν πεθαίνει ο ήλιος
ταξιδεύει

The wind is a horse
listen how he runs
for the sea, for the sky
he wants to lift me up

Listen to the wind
how it moves about the world
to fly far away

Hide me in your arms
just for this night
this night as the rain
breaks with its thousands of mouths
against the sea and the earth

The wind rushes galloping
listen it calls me
the wind wants
to take me far away
I don’t want it to take me

With your head
beside my forehead
and with our bodies
joined

It left the wind
running
in the sea
with a wreath of foam

Listen to him calling me

He rushes galloping
and in the shadows he
searches for me
in the darkness
he seeks me

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Τρέχει καλπάζοντας
και στις σκιές με ψάχνει
μέσα στα σκοτάδια
με ζητά

My little hands, my love*
embroidered a cape for you
with flowers cloves
a stole of water

The moon is, my love
a tiny little quarter
and the flowers, my love
want nothing more now
only your strong arms
that embrace me at night
only your strong arms
that embrace me at night

When you came for the wedding
white spring my love
and the hooves of the horse
four sobs of silver

The moon is, my love
a tiny little quarter
and the flowers, my love
want nothing more now
only your strong arms
that embrace me at night
only your strong arms
that embrace me at night

(translation: Eva Johanos
*καλέ μου ~ literally “my good man,” a term of endearment)

Το φεγγάρι είναι καλέ μου
μια σταλίτσα πηγαδάκι
και τα λούλουδα καλέ μου
τίποτ’ άλλο πια δε θέλουν
μόνο τα γερά σου μπράτσα
που τη νύχτα μ’ αγκαλιάζουν
μόν’ τα μπράτσα σου καλέ μου
που τη νύχτα με αγκαλιάζουν

If I die
leave the balcony [door] open

He is eating oranges, the boy
from the balcony I see him
the reaper is harvesting the wheat
from the balcony I hear him

If I die
leave the balcony [door] open

(translation: Eva Johanos
Notes from the video:
“From the album of 1969, 12 songs of Federico Garcia Lorca.
The balcony referred to by the poet exists and is pictured in some of the photographs of the video. Of course it is at the house of the immortal poet in Granada, where it functions as a memorial for the city; when there are visits of the public, the balcony door of the personal room of Lorca typically remains open, because of this specific poem.
It is said that the Andalusian poet, looking out from this balcony, which is situated on the top floor of his house, wrote not only the farewell, but a number of other poems as well. The music of the album belongs to Yiannis Glezos.”)