Nena Venetsanou / Νένα Βενετσάνου

My thoughts about you
let them remain in shadow
Beautiful name, Lilith
half-erased writing

Eyes dark as ebony
Light blue, your body
which hands nailed you
in the middle of the abyss?

We live joyless little lives-
Who will break the spell for us?
Inside our houses we live silently
Who will conquer the fear?

You play with magic potions
Witch of the abyss
You live far from the warm
fire of Heaven

Into the darkness they threw you
But you, naked, dance
You brave unheard-of emptinesses
and sow separations

We live joyless little lives-
Who will break the spell for us?
Inside our houses we live silently
Who will conquer the fear?

Flower, night-blooming flower,
My dark nightingale,
you flutter your wings in your pain
on the dark threshing floor

And I feel the throbbing,
the winged sign,
I name nothing-
Lilith, dense darkness.

We live joyless little lives-
Who will break the spell for us?
Inside our houses we live silently
Who will conquer the fear?

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Ζούμε άχαρες μικρές ζωές
ποια τα μάγια θα μας σβήσει
μες τα σπίτια ζούμε σιωπηλές
ποια το φόβο θα νικήσει

What I remember from our islands
is the sandy shore of Zakinthos
Kerkyra’s orchards
Rhodes’ big castle

What I remember from our islands
are Crete’s mountain villages
The fragrances of Chios
Kimolas’ sparkling waters
Syros’ upper town…

What I remember from our islands
are the two small snakes that fell in love
under the marbles of the temple
one summer noon on Delos
one summer noon on Delos

On Gavdos, on Folegandros
and on the small islands
a heavy silence has fallen like marble, bats are nesting
like a scarlet bouquet, the blood stays awake
like white flutes, the bones count the Hysperides
a one-eyed patrol harvests the sea
and around and behind the tents
the sirens are howling
Leros, Makronisos, Kythera and Tzia
Tell me who [are the women who] sealed
half a century of memories?

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Τη Λέρο, τη Μακρόνησο, τα Κύθηρα, τη Τζιά
πες μου ποιες τάχα σφράγισαν μισό αιώνα μνήμες. (χ2)

From years gone by I have a deep passion,
to go out to the far seas to find the little witch.

Untouched like a fairy, in the beauty of May,
whom if sensed by anyone, woe to you, you burn!

Come out, come out little witch; tap, tap your wand.
Do and re and mi and fa* in the pink clouds.

What hyacinths and what lilies, what this, that and the other!
Do and re and fa and mi, my palm and my strength.

Who will give me strength and a long harpoon,
to go out to the far seas to find the little witch

Who has the sky for a cave, an angel for a mother
and foam for her skirt, at the edge of the wave.

The ducks and the ships, they go together and separately.
Six, four, and eight, my good luck charm and keepsake!

Open gates and churches, that I may light a little candle,
that she may, hidden, make a miracle for me, the little witch

That I may sleep while awake, run while lying down,
and they may call me heartless, but I am in love.

Come out, come out little witch; tap, tap your wand.
Do and re and mi and fa in the pink clouds.

The ducks and the ships, they go together and separately.
Six, four, and eight, my good luck charm and keepsake!

(translation: Eva Johanos
*Ντο και ρε και μι και φα ~ Do and re and mi and fa ~ notes of the musical scale)

In Smyrna, Melpo. Hero, in Thessaloniki.
In Volo, Katinitsa, once upon a time.
Now in Vourla they call me Lela.
My home, which was it? Who were my people?
If I know, may I be damned.
For my house, my country I have the brothels.
And as for my bitter times, my childhood
cloudy, erased drawings.
And it is an empty chest, my memory.
Today worse than yesterday
and tomorrow wants from today to be.
Kisses from unknown mouths, curses
and the police push me around with their speech.
Celebrations, brawls until daylight.
Illnesses, amphitheatre, Syngrou
and six hundred and six injections.
Rotten floorboard of a drowned ship.
All of my life of loss.
But from my hell I yell out to you:
I am a picture of you, society, and I resemble you.
But from my hell I yell out to you:
I am a picture of you, society, and I resemble you.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Στη Σμύρνη, Μέλπω. Ηρώ, στη Σαλονίκη.
Στο Βόλο, Κατινίτσα, έναν καιρό.
Τώρα στα Βούρλα με φωνάζουν Λέλα.
Ο τόπος μου, ποιός ήταν; Ποιοί οι δικοί μου;
Αν ξέρω, ανάθεμά με.
Σπίτι, πατρίδα έχω τα μπορντέλα.
Ως κι οι πικροί μου χρόνοι, οι παιδικοί μου,
θολές, σβησμένες ζωγραφιές.
Κι είν’ αδειανό σεντούκι η θύμησή μου.
Το σήμερα χειρότερο απ’ το χτες.
Και τ’ αύριο απ’ το σήμερα θε να ‘ναι.
Φιλιά από στόματ’ άγνωστα, βρισιές
κι οι χωροφύλακες να με τραβολογάνε.
Γλέντια, καυγάδες ως να φέξει.
Αρρώστιες, αμφιθέατρο, Συγγρού
κι ενέσεις εξακόσια έξι.
Πνιγμένου καραβιού σάπιο σανίδι.
Όλη η ζωή μου του χαμού.
Μ’ από την κόλασή μου, σού φωνάζω:
Εικόνα σου είμαι, κοινωνία, και σού μοιάζω.
Μ’ από την κόλασή μου, σού φωνάζω:
Εικόνα σου είμαι, κοινωνία, και σού μοιάζω.

Το καφέ “Γκρέκο” μέσα μου καίει
ό,τι κι αν λέω ό,τι κι αν φταίει
είναι ο χάρτης των ημερών
είμαι ρολόγιον των καιρών.

With empty dreams and pockets,
I set sail, like Cervantes,
in a ship of the enemy;
I had drunk and I was tipsy
And Europe had defeated
the forces of Evil.

With self-denial and with passion
I went in, mistakenly,
in the dizziness of the drink;
I was captured by the Muslims
and they threw me straight away
into a jail cell for two years.

From so many tortures,
the moment has come for me to see ~
the mind is enchanted
and destiny is unknown.

Since I saw that, for me,
Europe would not give
a red cent,
I learned further that
for every Don Quixote,
hope makes provisions.

And so it happened with me
that from Algiers, one day,
with Corsairs and thieves
I crossed the Pyrenees,
and from the Lernaean Hydra,*
I found myself in a new country.

From so many tortures,
the moment has come for me to see ~
the mind is enchanted
and destiny is unknown.

Before my dream set in the west,
I arrived in Paris;
an immigrant, unfortunately ~
Thenardier ** abducted me
and put me to work
for ten hours without a break.

So I lost my brakes,
I lost what they call
“adjustment to time;”
I tumbled to the Pindus***
and since then, I am now
an immigrant in life.

From so many tortures,
the moment has come for me to see ~
the mind is enchanted
and destiny is unknown.

The mind is enchanted
and destiny is unknown.

(translation: Eva Johanos
*Ύδρα τη Λερναία, the Lernaean Hydra ~ a mythological monster with many heads
**Θερναρδιέρος, Monsieur Thenardier, a character from Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserable” who “adopts” the orphaned Cosette after her mother Fantine dies, but forces her to work like a slave for the family
***Πίνδο, Pindus, a mountain range in Northern Greece and southern Albania)
[About this story, Nena writes:
"So... we are all immigrants in life... as Betty Komninou remarks in the song 'Cervantes,' a popular ("laiko") song that refers to the real history of the great writer, who had taken part in the naval battle of Naupaktos, but went out to celebrate, and returning drunk, mistakenly boarded a Turkish ship, whereupon he was taken hostage by the Turks. Thus, as the only captive of the defeated fleet he was made a slave in all the slave markets of Africa. However, no one bought him because he had lost his hand and a maimed slave was useless. From prison to prison he went until finally he informed his father, who being Spanish nobility paid a ransom and he was saved... and... afterwards wrote the masterpiece 'DON QUIXOTE.' All of that to say not to be disappointed when you lose your place. Life is always life and we must live it completely. Nothing escapes History which has eyes and sees, nor the artists who have the key to the memory of humanity."]

Το μυαλό είναι μαγεμμένο
κι άγνωστο το πεπρωμένο.

From Elias Andriopoulos’s work “Argonauts,” poetry of George Seferis, Manos Eleftherios and Nikos Gatsos set to music. This poem is from Seferis’s collection “Diary from the Third Deck,” dedicated to Cyprus, from 1995. Aghia Napa, which lends its name to the title of the poem, is a small city, with a monastery of the same name, in the countryside of Ammochostos.

[Απ' το έργο του Ηλία Ανδριόπουλου "Αργοναύτες", το οποίο περιέχει μελοποιημένη ποίηση του Γιώργου Σεφέρη, του Μάνου Ελευθερίου και του Νίκου Γκάτσου. Το ποίημα αυτό είναι απ' την αφιερωμένη στην Κύπρο, ποιητική συλλογή του Σεφέρη "Ημερολόγιο καταστρώματος Γ,'", του 1995. Η Αγία Νάπα, απ' όπου και ο τίτλος του ποιήματος, είναι μια μικρή πόλη, με ομώνυμο μοναστήρι, στην επαρχία της Αμμοχώστου.]

From a small unknown village, very close to Parnassos
I started off to try my strength
And to the ones who tortured me, like Christ, like a Saint
I cut off one of their breasts

I walked along and stepped upon the living and the dead
Survived life’s miseries
I’ve earned my myth with bitter thoughts
Underworlds and empty streets

Marianthi they call me, my family was mad
All violence and wickedness I hate, I abhor
Thousands of distand eyes stare
Counting my breath’s remaining air
Thousands of distand eyes stare
Counting my breath’s remaining air

I’ve never been a widow from Ephesus
I’ve never had a soldier for a lover opportune
I’ve cast my dice in the slums
I’ve my pain with a bouzouki tune

I couldn’t be a woman, I failed to be happy
I’ve never worked in brothels bearing lights red
And in the warp of changes a new era began
And I was left a memory, unfortunate and dead

Marianthi they call me…..

You are a dove
which flies in the sky
let’s go to find a star
in a faraway world

Come, let’s go to find a star
which flies high in the sky

You are a heartbeat
You have cut my wings
come, take my sorrow
and come, give me joy

You are a heartbeat
You have cut my wings

Your carnation (flower) measures
I love as no one else
I make my heart a stone
and I await your appearance

Come, and I am waiting for you
to appear at the corner

You are a dove

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Tired fairy
on the rock of the lake she sleeps
Day has broken the sun came out
but don’t awaken her

Last night they had a wedding
crowns exchanged on the sand

Her white kerchief
she has given it, it is gone
to a young man
in the color of May

And if he does not return
to leave the kerchief
the fairy of the rocks
will be extinguished alone

Her white veils
wet
to the breeze of the dawn
given

(translation: Eva Johanos)

It is not dawn, it isn’t dawn for me to rise
It is not dawn, it isn’t dawn for me to rise
ah, not to sigh
star of dawn, why are you so late coming out?

To go back to, to go back to my pillow
To go back to, to go back to my pillow
ah, and from longing to cry
come out, my sun, and come to me, my sun

The nightingales of, the nightingales of the east
The nightingales of, the nightingales of the east
ah, and the Pleiades of the west
star of dawn, why are you late in coming out?

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Να γείρω στο προσκέφαλο
Να γείρω στο προσκέφαλο
Ααααχ … κι από καημό να κλάψω
Έβγα ήλιε μου κι έλα μήλειε μουΤ’ αηδόνια της Ανατολής
Τ’ αηδόνια της Ανατολής
Ααααχ … και τα πουλιά της Δύσης
Άστρο της αυγής γιατί αργείς να βγεις