Stavros Xarhakos / Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος

This good world
patched in a thousand places
sew, repair, friend, sew & repair
work, work, work may you have always

This good world
others had it first
laugh, my friend, laugh, you my friend
it is not, it is not, it is not a cause for sorrow

This good world
they handed down to us
run, my friend, run, you my friend
and don’t, and don’t, and don’t take it hard

This good world
others are waiting for it
Think, my friend, think, my friend
of the hour, the hour, the hour when you will leave

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Αυτόν τον κόσμο τον καλό
άλλοι τον καρτεράνε
βρε σκέψου φίλε μου σκέψου φίλε μου
την ώρα την ώρα την ώρα που θα φεύγεις

How beautiful you are, morning star; you descend with angels
you knock on the doors at dawn, and take all the pains.
You find houses in pain, you find empty arms
and songs which have hidden like birds in the [people's] hearts.

How beautiful you are, morning star, with your face like a lily,
you take the crying away from the children, and the lament from the birds.
You find roads of pain, and hearts without joy,
a forgotten sun on the surface of the deep water.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Ωραίος που είσαι αυγερινέ, πρόσωπο σαν το κρίνο,
παίρνεις το κλάμα απ’ τα παιδιά κι απ’ τα πουλιά τον θρήνο.
Βρίσκεις πονεμένους δρόμους και καρδιές χωρίς χαρά,
έναν ήλιο ξεχασμένο παν’ απ’ τα βαθιά νερά.

The palikari* grew thirsty
my bloodied moon
and he bent down to drink water
I have thirsted, also, for you
and I lowered my bloodied [lips]
your two lips to find

They departed, the birds, into the West
the moon has been torn
however I shall wait for you
thirsty young man
bloodied young man
if you should thirst for water

In my heart I have a knife
bloodied dove
where can I go, where can I stand
They have dried, my two lips
and if the rain brings no water
I shall die, I shall be lost

(translation: Eva Johanos)
*palikari: brave young man

Στην καρδιά μου έχω μαχαίρι
ματωμένη περιστέρι
πού να πάω, πού να σταθώ
Στέγνωσαν τα δυο μου χείλη
κι η βροχή νερό αν δεν στείλει
θα πεθάνω θα χαθώ

Once upon a time, my dear,
there was a beautiful lady queen.

A fair girl, married young
awaiting her lord, night and day.

And on a Saturday evening, my precious, on a Sunday
she pleads with the sun, my precious, she pleads with the moon.

My sun, shine on him, my moon
go and talk to him, for the love of me.

He wanders and sails, my precious, across the high seas
He mows down the pirates, my precious, and unmakes them.

Under the sun, the moon and the rain
And he leaves me all alone.

A galley sailed, my dear, with the north wind
and launched itself into battle, my dear, into fight.

Within a pirate trade
I saw fire burning and killing.

Μέσα σ’ ένα σινάφι πειρατικό
είδα φωτιά ν’ ανάβει και φονικό

The agency
dim and cold
some people speak about strange
rains
and the trip
like a wild snake
fills with fear the weak
souls

This evening we both seem
I farther behind and you in front
like a bus at night
which has its lights off
for us the world does not end
for us the world is just beginning
but the black snow of the heart
will not get us anywhere

The agency . . .

Man, neighbor, friend
in poverty and in
being a refugee
one frozen spark send
that I may make it blaze for you into a great fire
And if you don’t burn up, come behind
as no one will be left anymore
so we may become once more human beings
in the garden of Gethsemane

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Άντρα και γείτονα και φίλε
στη φτώχεια και στην προσφυγιά
μια παγωμένη σπίθα στείλε
να σου την κάνω πυρκαγιά
Κι αν δεν καείς έλα κατόπι
που δε θα μείνει πια κανείς
για να γίνουμε πάλι ανθρώποι
στο κήπο της Γεθσημανής

One Sunday in Kokkinia
in the neighborhood where I lived as a child
I saw an old lady, a fatty
whose mind was somewhere else

I looked at her, she looked at me
like an owl in a garden
and she told me in a dim voice
which reminded me of a crazy mother:

“I was planted in warm soil
centuries before Christ.
I lived well and pleasantly
and got only the best.

But as time progressed
the world became malicious
and they covered me, as you say,
many barbaric races

Seltzouks, Slavs, Venetians
as if they were all instigated
Then I understood why
I was a burnt paper
without joy, without a celebration

Slowly and humbly
with struggles and tortures
I grew new wings
but even worse times came

I saw my own children
giving the keys to others
and with thousands of lies
with betrayals and blood
breaking my heart

That’s why one dark night
I will go up to Kaisariani
with tired footsteps
I will cry for the victims
in the spidery tombs

And there, high up on Hymettus,
across from Lycabettus,
I will hold a small candle
which will shine for a hundred years.”

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Κι εκεί ψηλά στον Υμηττό
αντίκρυ στον Λυκαβηττό
μικρό κεράκι θα κρατώ
να φέγγει χρόνους εκατό»

I have no house to come back
Or bed to sleep
I have no street or neighbourhood
To have a walk on First May

The big liar words
Were those you told me with your first milk

But not when snakes have woken up
You wear your old ornaments
And you never cry, my motherland, Greece
That you have sold your children as slaves

The big liar words
Were those you told me with your first milk

But then when I talked to your destiny
You had got dressed with your old fineries
And in the bazaar you took me like a monkey, gipsy woman
Greece, Greece, sorrow mother

The big liar words
Were those you told me with your first milk

But now that fire flares up again
You look at your old beautiesε
And on the world’s arenas, my motherland, Greece
You’re always carting the same lie

Μα τώρα που η φωτιά φουντώνει πάλι
εσύ κοιτάς τα αρχαία σου τα κάλλη
και στις αρένες του κόσμου μάνα μου Ελλάς
το ίδιο ψέμα πάντα κουβαλάς.

First of May
with the clasp-knife
they carved the sky-light
and one evening
like wild beasts
they took you from your home

And one morning on a corner in Kokkinia
I saw the executioner passing and the murderer
I searched for years to find him
but he walked with Death at his side.

Now and forever
in life
I had you as my anchor
but one dawn
on the black earth
you were brought down by a bullet.

And one morning on a corner in Kokkinia
I saw the executioner, the thief and the murderer
they had tied around his neck a rope
and they were stepping on his head as if it were a snake.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Κι ένα πρωί σε μια γωνιά στην Κοκκινιά
είδα το μπόγια το ληστή και το φονιά
του ‘χανε δέσει στο λαιμό του μια τριχιά
και του πατάγαν το κεφάλι σαν οχιά.

We who remained
on the hard ground
for the dead
we will burn frankincense
and when it has disappeared
far away the caravan
of Charon, the great wrestler,
to their memory we will hold a dance.

We who remained
will eat, in the morning
a slice from the round loaf of the sun,
a bunch of grapes from the arbor,
and without having the chattering of fear anymore
we will go forward, ahead in life.

We who remained
will go out one evening
to sow grass in the desert
and before for forever
the night takes us
we will make the earth a place to kneel and worship
and a cradle for the unborn children.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Εμείς που μείναμε
θα βγούμε μια βραδιά
στην ερημιά να σπείρουμε χορτάρι
και πριν για πάντα
η νύχτα να μας πάρει
θα κάνουμε τη γη προσκυνητάρι
και κούνια για τ’ αγέννητα παιδιά.

The light of the sun was extinguished
the moon was lost
and the palikari* is gone
my secret heartache and desire

Stone by stone I walk
his blood I breathe
and I wait no longer
since they killed the one I love

My secret heartache and desire
the night enfolds him
and drowns my voice
pain has become my brother

Stone by stone I walk . . .

He came to find the dawn for me,
he came to kiss me
he came to fill
with carnations and stars the earth

Stone by stone I walk,
it shines and day breaks
Sweet bird, nightingale
sing for me of the man I love.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Πέτρα την πέτρα περπατώ,
φέγγει και ξημερώνει
Γλυκό πουλί τ’ αηδόνι
τραγούδα μου τον π’ αγαπώ.

How could I silence within me
the beauty of the world?
The sky mine
the sea within my measurements

How can they make me see the sun
with different eyes?
On these solar stair steps
My mother taught me to live

In the waters of the swamp
What language do they use to speak to me
those who ask me
to lower my wings?

Στου βούρκου μέσα τα νερά
ποια γλώσσα μου μιλάνε
αυτοί που μου ζητάνε
να χαμηλώσω τα φτερά;

They return, taciturn children
To this earthly garden
Like embittered clouds
Like frozen stars

Where was it that they roamed
For four summers
Where was it that they strained
Bitterness with their hands

They pass unkissed, children
And they search throughout all the North
Which cast down the seals
Like leaves of marble

Where was it that they roamed
For five or six summers
Where was it that they strained
Bitterness with their hands

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Πού ήταν πού γυρίζανε
πεντ έξι καλοκαίρια
πού ήταν και στραγγίζανε
την πίκρα με τα χέρια