Dimitris Kosmopoulos | Greece


Shells, sea snails in the sand,
all are stars, that burned and fell.
They burned for you, to collect them one by one from the seashore.
Here, where you are, in the region of a sun full of glory.
Waves of sun though have captured your soul
Bound to the highest mast of the lotus-eater hope
While waiting to cease the war, the fire,
All the kingdom of the evil world.
But everybody knows you, you are the mad man,
The one who walks around, all day long collecting bones
from all the lost stars and meteorites.
They know though, that only you can sing the desert land
With sacred only words
from ancient castles of a disappeared world.
Come on, keep searching remnants and pieces of a sky
In your bedroom where you mourn but not for long.
Cause you spread the sparkling shells in a white towel
Lighting up to end all the darknesses of the soul.




Οἱ πεταλίδες, τὰ κοχύλια μὲς στὴν ἄμμο
εἶναι ἀστέρια ποὺ καήκανε καὶ πέσαν
νὰ τὰ μαζεύεις ἕνα-ἕνα ἀπὸ χάμω
ἐδῶ, καθὼς γυρνᾶς μόνος τὰ μεσημέρια
στὴν ἐπικράτεια ἑνὸς ἡλίου φωτοφάγου.
Τῆς θάλασσας τὰ κύματα σὲ δέσαν
στὸ πιὸ ψηλὸ κατάρτι ἐλπίδας λωτοφάγου:
Τάχα στομώσανε τοῦ κόσμου τὰ μαχαίρια,
ἔπεσε ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ ἀνθρωποφάγου.
Σ’ ἔχουν τρελλὸ νὰ τριγυρνᾶς στὴν παραλία
μαζεύοντας τὰ κόκκαλα σβησμένων ἄστρων.
Λένε πὼς ἔχεις περισσὴ τὴν εὐκολία
πλέκοντας λέξεις ἀπὸ τὰ ἱερὰ βιβλία
νὰ ψάλλεις ἐρημιὲς καταλυμένων κάστρων.
Μάζευε ἐσὺ τὰ λείψανα ἀρχαίου οὐρανοῦ
μέσα στὴν θλίψη δωματίου βραδυνοῦ
ἄνοιξε τὸ δισάκκι σου, ἅπλωσέ τα.
Στιλπνὰ πάνω σὲ πάλλευκη πετσέτα
τεκμήρια κόσμου πρωτινοῦ -ἄναψε κι ἄφηνέ τα-
μιὰ πρωταυγὴ ἄσπιλου πρωινοῦ.

Axis mundi

Telemachus son, what did you just say?
An iron sun melts, as water of the dead
The same whipping, water of bronze.
You crossed alone the mountains, but also this old stone bridge
The past covers your eyes, ashes and soil, hide and seek
your life hidden from the servants of Death.
Your words are flashing in old palaces
Shredding your mind, breaking the body into pieces
Father and son, this is the same black tree
The same orphan, frozen child.
My voice sounds as hunted animal, beneath the bridge,
leaving the forests of the ancient palace of Pylos
when you uproot the wild thistle from your soul,
in order to flood a desolated road ,
as the water will find you this evening too.
But somewhere there, is sure, will be a Church, for you
now that the bridges have fallen, it’s true.

Axis mundi

Τηλέμαχε, ποῖόν σε ἔπος φύγεν ἔρκος ὀδόντων.
Ὁ σιδερένιος ἥλιος λυώνει, καυτὸ μολύβι, νερὸ τῶν ἀπόντων.
Κρουνὸς σὲ μαστιγώνει φῶς ἀπὸ χαλκὸ καὶ μπακίρι.
Πέρασες κάμπους καὶ βουνὰ καὶ νά τὸ πέτρινο γεφύρι.

Στάχτη καὶ κουρνιαχτὸς τὰ περασμένα σοῦ σκεπάζουνε τὰ μάτια.
Ἔγινε ὁ βίος σου ἀτέρμονο κρυφτὸ μὲ τὰ τσιράκια τοῦ θανάτου
κι ὁ λόγος σου τινάχτηκε ἀστραπὴ μέσα στ’ ἀνήμερα παλάτια
καὶ σοῦ πυρπόλησε τὸν νοῦ κι ἔκαμε τὸ κορμὶ κομμάτια:

«Γιὸς καὶ πατέρας, δέντρο καὶ κλαρὶ μὰ ἴδια ἡ μαύρη ρίζα.
Τὸ αἷμα σύννεφο ἀνταριάζει παγερὴν ὀρφάνια.
Μαζεύω τὴν φωνή μου ζῶο κυνηγημένο κάτω ἀπ’ τὴν μαρκίζα
τούτης τῆς γέφυρας. Ἀφήνω πίσω μου τῆς Πύλου τὰ ρουμάνια».

Πῶς ξερριζώνεις ἀπ’ τὴν ψυχή σου τὸ ἄγριο του κεντράδι
Γιὰ νά ‘ρθει τῶν λυγμῶν ἡ ἀνείπωτη παλίρροια.
Στὴν ἐρημιὰ τοῦ δρόμου θὰ σὲ βρεῖ κι αὐτὸ τὸ βράδυ.
Μὰ κάπου θά ‘χει μιὰ Ἐκκλησιά, τώρα ποὺ πέσαν τὰ γιοφύρια.