REBETIKO READER, SOAS (University of London). See my rebetika poems in chapter 26 (originally Chapter 19)

 https://www.geocities.ws/soasrebetikoreader/

Jim Potts, a small selection of my poems on Greece. New translations by Demetris Dallas

 

 

«Νὰ τὰ ποῦμε;»

ΠΑΡΑΜΟΝΗ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥΓΕΝΝΩΝ ΤΟΥ 1983

ΑΓΟΡΑ ΜΟΔΙΑΝΟ, ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΝΙΚΗ

 

Παραμονὴ Χριστουγέννων, ἡμέρα Σάββατο·

Παιδιὰ μὲ τρίγωνα,

τὰ παραδοσιακὰ κάλαντα.

«Νὰ τὰ ποῦμε; νὰ τὰ ποῦμε;».

Μὲ τὸ βάρος τῆς λατέρνας

ἀπ̉ τὴν Κωνσταντινούπολη

ὁ ἀνηψιὸς τοῦ πρόσφυγα σκύφτει καὶ παραπατεῖ:

στὴν πλάτη του στερεωμένο τοῦτο τὸ μουσειακὸ εἶδος, σὰν τὸν σταυρό.

Σέρνεται ἀπὸ ταβέρνα σὲ ταβέρνα:

«Νὰ τὰ ποῦμε; νὰ τὰ ποῦμε;».

Δὲν εἶναι δουλειά του ἡ μανιβέλλα,

τὸ τραγούδι πάνω στὸν σκοπὸ

ποὺ πιάνει ὁ θειὸς ἀπ̉ τὸ μηχάνημα:

χαϊδεύει καὶ κρούει μὲ δακτυλισμοὺς τὸ ντέφι,

γλιστρᾶ τὴν κόψη τῆς παλάμης στὴ μεμβράνη νὰ σκούξει, νὰ στενάξει,

πιάνει τὰ τσιφτετέλια μπροστὰ στὰ χασαπάδικα,

μέσα στὰ καφενεῖα, στὰ οὐζερί·

ὁ γέρο-πρόσφυγας, χρόνια πολλὰ ἀπόμαχος,

ὅπως ὁ χασάπης ποὺ στήνει αὐτί, ὅπως οἱ ταβλαδόροι,

ζεῖ ἀκόμη στὴν Πόλη, πορεύεται στοὺς δρόμους της.

Παύει μόνον ν̉ ἀτενίζει ἀπόμακρος,

σταματᾶ τὸ χέρι ποὺ κινεῖ τὴ μανιβέλλα,

ὅταν ρόμηδες νεαροὶ ἀπ̉ τὴ Θράκη, ὀργανωμένοι σὲ ὁμάδες

— κατεργαραῖοι ὀργανοπαῖχτες, γρηγορότεροι στὰ πόδια,

πάντα ἕτοιμοι ν̉ ἁρπάξουνε τὴν μπάζα —

τὸν προλαβαίνουν, τρυπώνουνε στὰ οὐζερὶ μὲ τοὺς πολλοὺς πελάτες

φυσώντας κάτι στριγγοὺς ζουρνᾶδες, βαρώντας νταραμποῦκες, γελώντας

καθὼς τὸν προσπερνᾶνε στὰ στενά,

τρέχοντας πρὸς τὰ τραπέζια μὲ περισσευούμενα κέρματα.

Ἀλλ̉ οὔτε ψυχὴν θερμαίνουν οὔτε κλέβουν καμμιὰν παράσταση.

Ἂν καἰ τ̉ ἀνοικονόμητο ὀργανέττο δἐν χωρεῖ στἀ μαγαζιά,

οἱ Ἕλληνες θαμῶνες σκιρτοῦν ὅτι ὑπάρχει ἀκόμη, ὅτι ζεῖ,

τώρα πάλι στολισμένο ὅπως τότε:

λατέρνα μὲ Πολίτικη σφραγίδα.

Κι̉ ἂν εἶναι ἀνοικονόμητη, δὲν τῆς λείπει ἡ μελωδία·

οἱ παραδοσιακοὶ σκοποὶ ἔχουν ἐναρμονισθεῖ:

Βυζαντινὰ κλειδιὰ, ρωμαϊκὸς κύλινδρος.

Οἱ ζουρνατζῆδες κάνουνε μεγάλο σαματᾶ·

παλιάτσοι μὲ ροῦχα πολύχρωμα καὶ ὀξύτονα πνευστὰ

ξεχωρίζουν μέσα στὸν ἀχὸ ποὺ προξενοῦν οἱ κράχτες

κι᾿ οἱ μαγαζάτορες τοῦ παζαριοῦ μὲ χριστουγεννιάτικες κραυγές:

Ὅμως δὲν μποροῦν νὰ βγάλουν ὅλες τὶς νότες

τοῦ «Καλὴν ἡμέραν ἄρχοντες».

Δὲν ἔχουν βαδίσει τοῦτοι σ̉ ἐκείνου τοῦ ἀνθρώπου τὸν Κρανίου Τόπο,

τὸν Γολγοθᾶ τῆς Μεγάλης Ἰδέας.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ΜΝΗΜΗ ΤΗΣ ΜΙΚΡΑΣΙΑΣ: ΑΥΤΟΣΧΕΔΙΑΣΜΟΣ ΣΕ ΕΛΑΣΣΟΝ

 

Μὴν τ᾿ ἀφήνεις ἀπ̉ τὰ χέρια τὸ παλιὸ μπουζούκι,

Τσιτσάνη μάστορα.

Γύρνα ὅλους τοὺς δρόμους,

τράβα κι̉ ἄλλο τὸ ταξίμι,

σκόρπισε τὴ συννεφιὰ

ποὺ σκοτίζει κάθε ὄνειρο.

 

Πᾶρε με πάλι στὴν Ἀνατολή,

καθὼς ὁλοένα στρέφομαι δυτικότερα.

Βάρυνε τὸν ρυθμὸ

ν̉ ἀλαφρώσεις τὴν ψυχή μου.

«Εἴμαστε ὅλοι πρόσφυγες»:

Ἔτσι κραυγάζουν τ̉ ἀσημένια τέλια σου.

 

(Ὁ Βασίλης Τσιτσάνης ἀπεβίωσε τὴν 18ην Ἰανουαρίου τοῦ 1984 στὸ Νοσοκομεῖο Μπρόμπτον τοῦ Λονδίνου)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ΖΑΓΟΡΙ

 

Ὁ κλαριντζῆς Νικόλα-Νῖνος

ἔπαιζε τὰ ζαγορίσια

ὅπως κανένας ἄλλος,

μὲ τὸν Μανούση, τὸν Μῆτσο, τὸν Μπεκάρη,

νταϊρέ, βιολί, λαοῦτο.

Ἔρχονταν κόσμος ἀπὸ μακριά,

διάβαιναν ποτάμια καὶ φαράγγια, γεφύρια καὶ βουνὰ

μὲ τὸ μουλάρι, μὲ τὸν γάϊδαρο· σκαρφάλωναν τὰ καλντιρίμια.

Τὰ χωριὰ στὸ πανηγύρι

ἄνοιγαν σπίτια καὶ καρδιές.

Τὰ χρόνια χωρὶς τὸ ἠλεκτρικό,

χωρὶς ἐνισχυτές, μικρόφωνα,

χωρὶς δρόμους, λεωφορεῖα, αὐτοκίνητα,

στὰ ψηλὰ χωριὰ τοῦ Ζαγοριοῦ

παρέες ἀπ᾿ τὸ Μονοδέντρι καὶ τὸ Δίλοφο,

ἀπὸ τοὺς Ἀσπραγγέλους, τὸ Τσεπέλοβο

χόρευαν ὣς τὴ νύχτα τὰ ταξίμια,

πολὺ προτοῦ νὰ τὰ ἠχογραφήσουν.        

 

Μὲ τὶς εὐχαριστίες μου πρὸς τὸν Ἀλέξιο Βασδέκη, συνταξιοῦχο τυροκόμο ἐτῶν 79, ἀπὸ τὴ Βίτσα καὶ τὴν προνασερικὴ Αἴγυπτο.

 

 

 

 

 

ΑΧΕΙΡΟΠΟίΗΤΑ

 

Τοῦ ἁγιογράφου

ἡ προσευχὴ ἐποίει τὴν εἰκόνα·

ὁ χρωστήρας τοῦ καλλιτέχνη ἀθῶος τῆς χειρός.

Ἀκήρατα χρώματα τῶν μοναστικῶν κελλιῶν

διαβασμένα σ᾿ ἐκκλησιὰ μὲ τὴ ματιὰ τῆς Παναγίας:

 

Λευκό: Ἀληθὴς Φύσις

Χρυσό: Λαμπρότης

Ἐρυθρό: Θεῖον Αἷμα.

 

Οὐράνια ἀλχημεία τέχνης θαυματουργοῦ —

ἔργον ανθρώπου, χεὶρ ταπεινοῦ.

 

 

ΤΡΙΑ ΠΑΞΙΝΑ ΠΟΙΗΜΑΤΑ ΤΗΣ ΝΙΝΑΣ

 

α’

ΑΠ̉ ΤΟΝ ΓΚΡΕΜΝΟ ΤΗΣ ΟΣΤΡΙΑΣ

(ΑΠΟΨΗ ΤΟΥ ΝΕΟΥ ΔΡΟΜΟΥ ΠΡΟΣ ΤΟ ΑΥΛΑΚΙ)

 

Ἄνοιξαν δρόμο ἐδῶ,

κάτω απ̉ τὸ καρτέρι μου:

μαχαίρι στὴν καρδιά.

 

 

β’

ΠΑΞΙΝΟ ΧΑΪΚΟΥ

 

Μ̉ ἑξήντα τέσσαρες ἐκκλησιὲς

γιατί νὰ φοβᾶσαι

ὅτι ὅλα ἔχουν χαθεῖ;

 

 

γ’

ΑΓΙΟΣ ΧΑΡΑΛΑΜΠΟΣ

 

Ἀνεμόμυλοι,

εἰκονοστάσια,

καμπαναριά,

στέρνες.

Ὁ Ἅγιος Χαράλαμπος

ὅλα τὰ ἔσωσε.

Ἀπέτρεψε τὴν πανώλη,

ἔλυσε τὴν πολιορκία.

Τὴν βεβήλωση

δὲν ἠδυνήθη νὰ ἐμποδίσει.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ΘΡΑΥΣΜΑΤΑ ΑΠΟ ΤΗΝ ΜΕΤΑΛΛΑΞΗ ΤΩΝ ΠΑΞΩΝ

[ΟΙ ΠΑΞΟΙ ΠΟΥ ΑΛΛΑΖΟΥΝ: ΘΡΑΥΣΜΑΤΑ]

 

α’

Ἡ εγκατελειμμένη μηχανή,

εἰσαχθεῖσα ἐκ τῆς Ἀγγλίας,

κατασκευὴ τῆς ἐταιρείας Petters ἐν Ἰάουβιλ,

τότε κινοῦσε τὸ λιοτρίβι τοῦ χωριοῦ,

ἔστρεφε ἀγόγγυστα

τὴν ρόδα   

στὰ Μανεσάτικα.

Τώρα ὁ Σταμάτης ψάχνει νὰ τὴν πουλήσει,

τὴν πολύτιμη, σκουριασμένη ἀντίκα του,

«ἀπ̉ τὸν καιρὸ τοῦ Καποδίστρια».

 

 

β’

Δὲν ἔχει ἄλλες ξώβεργες[ψάρεμα στόν ἀέρα]

γιὰ χελιδόνια,πετροχελίδονα, ἀνθρώπινες ψυχές.

Κάμανε μπὰρ στὸν Ἐρημίτη,

πηγαίνουν διάφοροι νὰ κοιτάξουνε τὸ ἡλιοβασίλεμα —

σύνορο μὲ τοὺς Ἁγίους Ἀποστόλους.

Οἱ πεθαμένοι πλέον δὲν ἀναπαύονται ἐν εἰρήνῃ.

Σ ε ί ε τ α ι  τ ὸ  ε ἰ κ ο ν ο σ τ ά σ ι.

 

 

γ’

Τοὺς Παξινοὺς τοὺς ἔπαιρναν 

οἱ πειρατὲς γιὰ σκλάβους.

Τώρα

ὑπογράφουν τὰ συμβόλαια

τῆς δουλείας των

ἐκουσίως.

(Στὰ 1663 ὁ Ἀναστάσιος Μπογδάνος ἀπήχθη ἀπὸ πειρατὲς γιἀ νὰ πωληθεῖ ὡς σκλάβος)

 

 

δ’

Σήμερα κανεὶς δὲν καβαλλᾶ μουλάρι.

Δὲν ἔχεις τί νὰ δέσεις

στοὺς κρίκους.

(Λίθινοι κρίκοι σ᾿ ἐγκαταλελειμμένο ἐνετικὀ οἴκημα: Βασιλάτικα)

 

 

ε’

Ὅταν οἱ συγγενεῖς ἐρίζουν

γιὰ τὰ παιδιὰ καὶ γιὰ τὰ δέντρα,

ἡ πικρία κρατεῖ

γενεὲς γενεῶν:

Ἡ ἔριδα εἶναι ἰσχυρότερη

ἀπ̉ τὴ στέγη.

Κανεὶς δὲν ὑποχωρεῖ.

Πρῶτοι ὑποχωροῦν οἱ τοῖχοι.

 

 

 

 

 

ΝΟΜΑΣ ΤΗΣ ΒΙΤΣΑΣ

 

Εἶμαι νέο εἶδος νομάδος

χωρὶς τὰ πρόβατα: ἀνατρέπω

τὸ μεταναστευτικὸ ἔθος.

Τέσσερις μῆνες στὰ βουνά,

πέντε στὴν παραλία,

τοὺς λοιποὺς στὶς πόλεις.

 

Τὴ μισὴ χρονιὰ

ἐδῶ ζοῦσαν καὶ πέθαιναν οἱ νομάδες·

ἀνάσταιναν τὰ ζωντανὰ

κι ὕφαιναν τὸ μαλλί τους

σχεδόν τριάντα αἰῶνες.

Τρεῖς χιλιάδες χρόνια, τόσο μικρὴ ἡ διαφορά.

 

Ἔζησα τὴ μισὴ ζωή μου

σὰν ἕνα εἶδος πλάνητος,

Σαρακατσάνος

ἢ Ζαγορίσιος,

ἄνθρωπος ἀνησύχαστος,

αὐτοεξόριστος, ξενιτεμένος.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ΥΙΟΣ ΤΗΣ ΕΛΛΑΔΟΣ

«Ποιὸς μπορεῖ νὰ πεῖ: “Ἔζησα ὀκτὼ τελειότατες ἡμέρες”;»

Αλμπὲρ Καμύ, Σημειωματάρια, β’ τόμος (1942-51)

 

Δ έ κ α  ὑπέροχες ἡμέρες εὐτυχεῖς.

Εἶναι ἡ γῆ ἡ Ἑλληνίς!

Πῶς νὰ τὸ καταλάβει ὁ Καμύ(ς);

Interview with Jim Potts in Greek, LIFO, 13 August 2023

https://www.lifo.gr/culture/vivlio/jim-potts-enas-kerkyraio-ipeirotis-ellinas-sto-pneyma-me-katagogi-apo-ntorset

AND MY MOTHER’S BITTER TEARS by DEMETRIUS TOTERAS

This book is dynamite!

Colenso Books 68 PALATINE ROAD LONDON N16 8ST U.K. 

colensobooks@gmail.com 

Announcing the publication of a novel completed in the 1990s but never published until now, many years after the author’s death  -

AND MY MOTHER’S BITTER TEARS by DEMETRIUS TOTERAS

There are many retail offers already on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

Booksellers in the USA can order from the international book distributors

GARDNERS BOOKS LTD OF EASTBOURNE, UK (internationalsales@gardners.com)

In case of difficulty, or for alternative quotations for delivery direct from the printers, contact the publisher (colensobooks@gmail.com)

From the flyer:

There is no doubt that this is, to a considerable extent, an autobiographical novel. It is also clear that parts of it are fictional, but it is not possible to define with any clarity the boundary between autobiography and fiction. The author did serve in the US Army in the Korean War as an underage soldier, and the novel begins with the narrator’s return from Korea, suffering from what we would now call post-traumatic stress disorder. Finding himself unable to face his family again, he is taken up by a young woman who looks after him. This narrative breaks off to be resumed only in the final chapter of the book, and there follow several chapters in which his early life in San Francisco's Greektown in the 1940s is recounted. Conflicting demands — of their families to be Greek and of their school to become Americans — drive him and his best friend to obtain fake birth certificates, enabling them to enlist, in 1949, at the age of fourteen, in the US infantry. Between basic training and embarkation for the Far East they take a bizarre trip to Mexico, where they become involved with a rich American couple who need to involve others in their sex-life. The two teenage soldiers are sent to the Mariana Islands where they are occupied in dismantling a World-War-Two ammunition dump. After an explosion which kills some of their colleagues, they are granted leave, and go to Japan. Through a series of mishaps there, they end up being sent to Korea with the first scratch-force of US troops, following the news that the North Koreans had crossed the 38th Parallel. They are involved in the first US battles of the Korean War, battles in which the US army was repeatedly defeated with immense loss of life. These battles are described in graphic and horrific detail, bringing us face to face with the insanity and the horror of war, and with the nature of fear. The book, though, is not without humour, and much of the humour has to do with sex. In this the narrator and his buddy are opposites: the narrator a romantic innocent, his buddy precocious and sex-mad. Although, the narrative of the weeks after his return alone from Korea is resumed in the concluding chapter, there is no conclusion, for we are left with a final moment of dramatic suspense, unsure exactly what it is that has just happened, and with no clue as to what the narrator’s future will be.

Joy Hendry, on the launch of Willa Muir's The Usurpers, March 31st 2023,The University of St Andrews

We were so sorry that Joy Hendry couldn't make it to St Andrews for the launch of The Usurpers. This is the text she kindly sent to be read at the event. 

‘Peerie Willa Muir’

I am deeply disappointed not to be able to be with you this afternoon, to launch this previously unpublished novel, The Usurpers by Willa Muir. It is wonderful to see the contribution she made to the richnesses of Scottish literature at last being recognised.

Back in 1980, when the world of Scottish literature especially, but in fact all of the arts, was largely a male domain. By then I was into my stride editing Chapman and gaining some confidence, and I began, starting with myself and the magazine, to review that situation. I had to recognise, rather painfully, that in my own magazine, and even in my own head, I was perpetuating that male domination. The result was the production of Woven by Women, No 27-8, long out of print, the first publication ever to look at the contribution of women to the arts in Scotland, and attribute real worth to it.

The issue caused a storm, but, quite soon after, others began to realise this matter needed urgent attention. In 1980, it was still possible for a leading poet and academic of the day to say to me, without flinching: “Scottish women poets: you mean there are any?”

My first commission for that issue was to ask Marion Lochhead, then in her 80s, to write ‘A Feminine Quartet’, in which she drew attention to Violet Jacob, Marion Angus, Nan Shepherd and Willa Muir. She was delighted to do so, and thought it long past time, which of course it was.

All of these women, perhaps Willa particularly, are tremendously important as role models for women attempting the pen today, and what they have to say to us all, gender irrespective, about Scotland and the world as they understood it is enormously valuable.

In 1980, the whole world of Scottish culture was itself neglected, and the entire work of the magazine Chapman was geared towards trying to correct these imbalances. Thankfully, the world we find ourselves in now, is much more enlightened, as is clear in developments like the publication of The Usurpers by Colenso Books.

In reflecting on Willa, and all gifted women like her, what might we have had from her had she lived today, in an environment in which woman are encouraged to expect and hope for so much more from themselves.

Joy Hendry

Professor Dame Sally Mapstone, Principal of the University of St Andrews, 

introducing the event and manuscript exhibition.

Willa Muir, The Usurpers

 

Previously unpublished, a classic novel by Willa Muir. Available at the end of March.

We have had to wait seventy years for this novel to be published!

THE USURPERS, Colenso Books

MEET THE AUTHOR, DORCHESTER LIBRARY, JIM POTTS, 18 FEBRUARY 2023

 

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/meet-the-author-jim-potts-tickets-523863900027

WILLA MUIR, THE USURPERS

Finally in print! The Usurpers was ready for publication in 1952, but it has never been published until now. The typescript has been held in the Special Collection of the Library of the University of St Andrews along with the diaries, journal and other manuscripts of Willa Muir. This is a publishing event of major importance, a political and satirical novel dealing with the years leading up to the Communist takeover of power in Prague in 1948. Willa and Edwin Muir lived in Czechoslovakia from 1945 to 1948 and both of them explored the impact of those tense and increasingly difficult times, Edwin in his poems and autobiography, Willa in The Usurpers and in her memoirs, Belonging.

COLENSO BOOKS, latest catalogue listing

 

Desert Island Poems

I have become involved with a Thomas Hardy Society poetry group which meets once a month to read and share a variety of poems by poets on a theme or topic as proposed in advance for each meeting.

As there are some excellent readers who find great poems, whether by Hardy or by others, it is always a pleasure to listen, to discover or rediscover poems.

What poems would you want to take with you if marooned on a desert island? The rules of the game were loosely suggested by the example of Desert Island discs.

Obviously it wouldn't be possible to read a long poem at such a meeting, but given the chance I would take a long epic to occupy my time in isolation or exile on an island:

Milton's Paradise Lost, Homer's Odyssey for starters.

Or amusing long poems like Byron's Don Juan. 

If allowed a sequence of poems, I'd take George Seferis' Mythistorima, Shakespeare's Sonnets, Eliot's Four Quartets, Blake's Songs of Experience, Hardy's Poems 1912-1913, William Barnes' Poems in the Dorset Dialect, Edwin Muir's The Labyrinth collection. That would probably be cheating.

In terms of shorter single poems, I'd probably take Yeats' Sailing to Byzantium, Donne's Sweetest Love, I do not go, Hardy's Beeny Cliff, Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey, Eliot's East Coker, Eva Strom's The Outer Hebrides. 

Ask me in a few weeks, and I'd probably come up with another list.

Sadly, I missed the meeting as my car battery was dead. The AA came eventually, and I had to buy a new battery.