melissanthi (1907-1990), four poems translated

4
Melissanthi 1907-1990), Four poems Translated from the Greek by Yannis Goumas ATONEMENT Every time I sinned a door half opened, and the angels who in my virtue had never f ound me beautiful tipped over the amphora of their floral souls; every time I sinned, it was as though a door had opened and tears of compassion dripped among the grasses;  but if the sword of my remorse chased me from heaven every time I sinned a door half opened and though men thought me ugly, the angels thought me beautiful. ANCIENT SUBMERGED CITIES Ancient submerged Cities tell us of the omnipotence of Silence, of her sudden floods within their walls; the snows of time acc umulate on her breast; the icebergs of millennia voyage slowly on. All set out from the primordial space of Silence and return to her once more; all are weighed on her bronze shield, our words, our footsteps, and our most profound thoughts.  Nothing can be lost, not a secret tear, not the leaf of a tree, not a single raindrop on the grass. Her holy Night is now filled with sacril egious ears and eyes. The slaughter of the innocent steams i n the plain  – misting over the mirror of the moon – ransom for the profane guilt of knowing and existing. STAGE SET A draught must have been blowing for hours  because we could see the stage sets swaying. A coloured cloth partition flapped for a moment strongly and then would suddenly trail, crumpling again. As we turned to look a hand seized and was shaking a wooden, hollow sky.

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Page 1: Melissanthi (1907-1990), Four Poems Translated

7/27/2019 Melissanthi (1907-1990), Four Poems Translated

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Melissanthi (1907-1990), Four poems

Translated from the Greek by Yannis Goumas

ATONEMENT

Every time I sinned a door half opened,

and the angels who in my virtue had never found me beautiful

tipped over the amphora of their floral souls;

every time I sinned, it was as though a door had opened

and tears of compassion dripped among the grasses;

 but if the sword of my remorse chased me from heaven

every time I sinned a door half opened

and though men thought me ugly, the angels thought me beautiful.

ANCIENT SUBMERGED CITIES

Ancient submerged Citiestell us of the omnipotence of Silence,

of her sudden floods within their walls;the snows of time accumulate on her breast;

the icebergs of millennia voyageslowly on.

All set out from the primordial space of Silence

and return to her once more;

all are weighed on her bronze shield,

our words, our footsteps,and our most profound thoughts.

 Nothing can be lost,

not a secret tear, not the leaf of a tree,

not a single raindrop on the grass.

Her holy Night is now filled with sacrilegious

ears and eyes.

The slaughter of the innocent steams in the plain

 – misting over the mirror of the moon – ransom for the profane guilt

of knowing and existing.

STAGE SET

A draught must have been blowing for hours

 because we could see the stage sets swaying.

A coloured cloth partition

flapped for a moment strongly

and then would suddenly trail, crumpling again.

As we turned to look 

a hand seized and was shakinga wooden, hollow sky.

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“It’s stars have come unstuck!

Look, they’re falling!” a few shouted.

 Now you could make out in the back 

the scaffold affected with dry rot.

Some stars got stuck on the windowpanes,on the shop windows downtown, like transfers.They clung wherever they could, here and there,

 but most fell into empty spaceand a few hooked themselves

on the hanging carcasses of pigs. Before longan inconceivable wind began to blow.

It wreaked havoc on the streets wherethe heaped fruit were now tumbled.

It seized all kinds of wares

and hurled them about forcefully.

It ripped off signs everywhere.

The huge scaffold creaked and leaned.

It moved unsteadily from side to side

as they set it up and tore it down

leaving dark holes in the ceiling.

Finally a new sun rose high

 – the cardboard was dented somewhat in places,

the tinfoil had flaked at the edges – 

 people now poured into the streets to shop,

fragrance of spices rose from the groceries,and a rickety sign informed us:

“Fancy dresses for rent here.”Many had already donned different masquerades.

And a few asked themselves in a low voice:

“How come that so many ghosts

walk in the market place in broad daylight?”

SIMPLON-ORIENT Or, METAPHYSICAL NAUSEA

Third class passengers,usually thick-skinned common people,

are not too fussy about comforts. They huddle together 

 just anyhow, they squat in the corridor 

or outside the W.C., forcing

others passing through to stride over them.

They lay out their food without giving a hoot

about unpleasant smells. When they finish eatingthey take out of their wallets photos

of the family:“This is my eldest son.

When he was born I sent word to my old man:he’s arrived, who’ll carry your name!”

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In the next compartment, body odour 

is making someone nauseous.

Can you imagine a buffalo among its herd

developing an aversion for animal smell?

Just now someone leaned out of the windowand said: “I think we’re nearing the terminal…”

And suddenly darkness fell. All at onceeverybody started talking together:

“My son’swaiting for me…” “ My daughter’s coming

to fetch me…” “Me, my grandson…” – a wave of warm voices rolled

against the influx of night – 

There’ll always be commotion in the third class,an acrid smell of foodstuff, foul breath and uncleanness;

 but it’ll throb with life and vigour,

 people with feet firmly on the ground.

They end their journey without

superfluous questions. They know all there is to know.

Who will carry their bags, the key

to the house (from father to son

and the son’s son, from hand to hand).

Unbreakable is the ancestral line. Onlyhere and there there’s a loose link 

on the chain that binds us together.

Μελισσάνθη (1907-1990)

Η Μελισσάνθη (πραγµατικό όνοµα  Ήβη Κούγια-Σκανδαλάκη) γεννήθηκε στην 

Αθήνα. Σπούδασε γαλλική και γερµανική φιλολογία στο Γαλλικό Ινστιτούτο και στην 

Abendschule Αθηνών αντίστοιχα και φοίτησε στην προπολεµική Δηµοσιογραφική 

Σχολή Αθηνών. Ασχολήθηκε επίσης µε την αγγλική γλώσσα, τη µουσική, τη ζωγραφική και το χορό. Εργάστηκε ως καθηγήτρια γαλλικών σε ιδιωτικά και δηµόσια 

σχολεία και ως δηµοσιογράφος. Το 1932 παντρεύτηκε τον Ιωάννη  Ν. Σκανδαλάκη,

δικηγόρο, πολιτικό και συγγραφέα φιλοσοφικών πραγµατειών. Συνεργάστηκε σε 

λογοτεχνικές και θεατρικές εκποµπές του Ελληνικού Ιδρύµατος Ραδιοφωνίας (1945-

1955), ήταν µέλος της Γυναικείας Λογοτεχνικής Συντροφιάς (1961-1972), της 

επιτροπής Κρατικών Βραβείων (1969-1975), του Κύκλου για το παιδικό βιβλίο 

(1969-1971). Πέθανε στην Αθήνα. Στο χώρο της λογοτεχνίας πρωτοεµφανίστηκε το 1930 µε την έκδοση της ποιητικής συλλογής Φωνές εντόµου και το 1931

κυκλοφόρησε τη λιθογραφηµένη ποιητική συλλογή Προφητείες, η οποία αποτέλεσε το λογοτεχνικό γεγονός της χρονιάς. Η ποίηση της Μελισσάνθης τοποθετείται στο 

χώρο του  υπαρξισµού και της µεταφυσικής αγωνίας. Ξεκίνησε  να γράφει ποίηση στα πλαίσια της παραδοσιακής στιχουργικής και οδηγήθηκε σταδιακά προς τον ελεύθερο 

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στίχο (από το 1945), επιλογή που οδήγησε και σε µια ανάλογη ανανέωση των 

θεµατικών και γλωσσικών της επιλογών. Ασχολήθηκε επίσης µε το φιλοσοφικό 

δοκίµιο και τις λογοτεχνικές µεταφράσεις. Τιµήθηκε µε τον  Έπαινο της Ακαδηµίας 

Αθηνών (1936), την Εύφηµο Μνεία Βραβείου Παλαµά, το Β΄ Κρατικό Βραβείο 

Ποίησης (1965), το Παράσηµο Χρυσούς Σταυρός Τάγµατος Εποποιίας, το Α΄ 

Κρατικό Βραβείο Ποίησης (1976), το Βραβείο του Ιδρύµατος Ουράνη, το Βραβείο Μεταφραστών, το Μετάλλιο Δήµου Πειραιώς και το Αργυρούν Μετάλλιο της Ακαδηµίας Αθηνών. Ποιήµατά της έχουν µεταφραστεί σε πολλές ξένες γλώσσες. Για 

περισσότερα βιογραφικά στοιχεία της Μελισσάνθης βλ . Τον όρθρον τον ερχόµενον ·Αφιέρωµα στην Μελισσάνθη. Αθήνα, Ε.Λ.Ι.Α, 1985, Ζήρας Αλεξ., «Μελίσσάνθη»,

Παγκόσµιο Βιογραφικό Λεξικό 6. Αθήνα, Εκδοτική Αθηνών, 1987 και Μαυροειδή -

Παπαδάκη Σοφία, «Μελισσάνθη», Μεγάλη Εγκυκλοπαίδεια της  Νεοελληνικής 

Λογοτεχνίας 10. Αθήνα, Χάρη Πάτση, χ .χ .. (

Πηγή: Αρχείο Ελλήνων Λογοτεχνών, Ε.ΚΕ.ΒΙ.).