Nikos Engonopoulos | Voices

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Nikos Engonopoulos, 'Orpheus' (1957)
 

to André Breton

through the closed shutters

in the yellow
blaze
of the afternoon
– when the statues keep silent
and the myths concur –
the voices
quiver
first
feebly
slowly
and then
thunderously
and fast
in the alley
 
and suddenly they reveal the age-old secrets
 
at times
– of course –
they are terrible and dreadful
like graves
and then
at times
affectionate
like graves again
and like the caress
of long
thin
fingers
 
and they call
each thing
by its name
 
they call water
from the tap
a mouth
the tall
black
trees
they call
oblivion
the night
in the gullies
Omphali
 
they call the weeping trees
a woman-friend
the cool carmine lips
they name leaves
the amorous teeth
a demon dream
 
the crimson beds of love
they call abyss
the black harbour waters
an oil lamp
and they call
the rusty moorings
of dream
a lament
 
they lay colourful plumes
upon Orpheus'
melancholy gaze
in Orpheus'
hands
they lay fans
they tear apart
his blazing
garments
they adorn
his head
with ribbons of lace
m o s t  f i n e
 
(into Orpheus'
Crown
they thrust
flags)
 
they hurl
blood
amid the mystifying oracles
and they rename
the palm trees
brands
they halt tearfully
over the word mallet
the word portal
they named silence
they called death
music
in the temples
and a forest
in the night
is what they call
my heart
 
 
(My translation ~ 2001)
 


Notes

You can read the Greek text, under the title «Οι φωνές», here.

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