Vangelis Tasiopoulos, Greece

Vangelis Tasiopoulos, Greece

The Poems

THE HOMELESS CONTEMPLATES, GROWS COLD

The evening
insists threatens
humid the city smells of storm
and the blue breaks down
to the borrowed clouds.
The sea feels full
by the love who heals the wounds.
Whatever passionate
the unexpected claims
with the gusts of wind
and the shortage of the birds which squawk.

How to share the magic mountain
in the process?
As the river swells
you search the versions of the story
and then,

She, white and beautiful among the natives,
holds the apple.

*

ΣΥΛΛΟΓΙΖΕΤΑΙ Ο ΑΣΤΕΓΟΣ, ΚΡΥΩΝΕΙ

Τὸ ἀπόβραδο
ἐπιμένει ἀπειλεῖ
ὑγρὴ ἡ πόλη μυρίζει καταιγίδα
καὶ τὸ γαλάζιο σπαράζει
στὰ δανεισμένα σύννεφα.
Ἡ θάλασσα χορταίνεται
στὸν ἔρωτα ποὺ ἀναπλάθει τὶς πληγὲς.
Σ’ ὅ,τι παράφορο
διεκδικεῖ τὸ ἀπρόσμενο
μὲ τὶς ριπὲς τοῦ ἀνέμου
καὶ τὶς ἐλλείψεις τῶν πτηνῶν ποὺ κρώζουν.

Τὸ μαγικὸ βουνὸ πῶς νὰ μοιράσεις
στὴ διάρκεια;
Καθὼς ὁ ποταμὸς φουσκώνει
ἀναζητᾶς τὶς ἐκδοχὲς τῆς ἱστορίας
καὶ τότε,

Ἐκείνη, λευκὴ καὶ ὄμορφη ἀνάμεσα στοὺς γηγενεῖς
κρατᾶ τὸ μῆλο.

* * *

THE OLD SHUTTERS

When you raise the old shutters the dust of time remains in your hands. You hear the growl
with the deep grievance of the past, the padlock breaks down in the salesman’s hand and
then a key turns and clack it locks it. That hour of prosperity the prostitute thanks the client
who thrived between her legs. Of course she didn’t have any other obligation, since the
price was equivalent. He looked at the salesman who tried again and again with
thoroughness the durability of the locker with an obvious agony painted on his dirty face
and left for home in a hurry. In a short while he would turn the key of his own door, he
would kiss with too much sweetness his little angels and magically he would be purified in
the family table.

*

ΤΑ ΠΑΛΙΑ ΡΟΛΑ

Ὅταν σηκώνεις τὰ παλιὰ ρολὰ μένει στὰ χέρια σου τοῦ χρόνου ἡ σκόνη. Ἀκοῦς τὸ γρύλισμα
μὲ τὸ βαθὺ παράπονο τοῦ παρελθόντος. Σπαράζει στὴ χούφτα τοῦ ἐμποράκου τὸ λουκέτο
κι ὕστερα ἕνα κλειδὶ γυρνᾶ καὶ κλὰκ τὸ ἀσφαλίζει. Τὴν ὥρα ἐκείνη τῆς εὐημερίας ἡ πόρνη
εὐχαριστεῖ τὸν πελάτη ποὺ εὐδοκίμησε στὰ σκέλια της. Δὲν εἶχε ἄλλη ὑποχρέωση
ἀσφαλῶς, ἀφοῦ τὸ ἀντίτιμο ἦταν ἀνάλογο. Ἐκεῖνος, κοίταξε τὸν ἔμπορο ποὺ μ’ ἐπιμέλεια
δοκίμαζε ξανὰ καὶ ξανὰ τὴν ἀντοχὴ τῆς κλειδαριᾶς μ’ ἔκδηλη τὴν ἀγωνία ζωγραφισμένη στὸ
ρυπαρό του πρόσωπο κι ἔφυγε βιαστικὰ γιὰ τὸ σπίτι. Σὲ λίγο θὰ γύριζε τὸ κλειδὶ τῆς δικιᾶς
του πόρτας, θὰ φιλοῦσε μὲ γλύκα περισσὴ τὰ ἀγγελούδια του καὶ ὡς διὰ μαγείας θὰ
ἐξαγνιζόταν στὸ οἰκογενειακὸ τραπέζι.