Σε μια παλάμη θάλασσας γεύτηκες τα πικρά χαλίκια Δύο η ώρα το πρωί περιδιαβάζοντας τον έρημο Αύγουστο Είδες το φως του φεγγαριού να περπατεί μαζί σου Βήμα χαμένο. Ή αν δεν ήτανε η καρδιά στη θέση της Ήταν η θύμηση της γης με την ωραία γυναίκα Η ευχή που λαχτάρησε μέσ’ απ’ τους κόρφους του βασιλικού Να τη φυσήξει ο άνεμος της Παναγίας!
Ώρα της νύχτας! Κι ο βοριάς πλημμυρισμένος δάκρυα Μόλις ερίγησε η καρδιά στο σφίξιμο της γης Γυμνή κάτω από τους αστερισμούς των σιωπηλών της δέντρων
Γεύτηκες τα πικρά χαλίκια στους βυθούς του ονείρου Την ώρα που τα σύννεφα λύσανε τα πανιά Και δίχως ήμαρτον κανέν’ από την αμαρτία χαράχτηκε Στα πρώτα σπλάχνα του ο καιρός. Μπορείς να δεις ακόμη Πριν από την αρχική φωτιά την ομορφιά της άμμου Όπου έπαιζες τον όρκο σου κι όπου είχες την ευχή Εκατόφυλλη ανοιχτή στον άνεμο της Παναγίας!
Ποίηση: Κ. Π. Καβάφης
Μουσική: Δημήτρης Παπαδημητρίου
Το ωχρόν μας Μισίρι
με βέλη ο ήλιος πλήρη
πικρίας και πείσματος καίει και δέρει,
και με δίψαν και νόσον το καταπονεί.
Το γλυκύ μας Μισίρι
εν μια γελαστή πανηγύρει
μεθά, λησμονεί, και κοσμείται, και χαίρει,
και τον τύραννον ήλιον περιφρονεί.
Το ευτυχές Σαμ ελ Νεσίμ την άνοιξιν αγγέλλει,
της εξοχής πανήγυρις αθώα.
Κενούτ' η Aλεξάνδρεια, κ' οι δρόμοι οι πυκνοί της.
Το ευτυχές Σαμ ελ Νεσίμ να εορτάση θέλει
ο αγαθός Aιγύπτιος και γίνεται σκηνίτης.
Aπό παντού εξέρχονται τ' αθρόα
των φιλεόρτων τάγματα. Πληρούται το Γκαμπάρι
και η γλαυκή, ρεμβώδης Μαχμουδία.
Το Μεξ, το Μωχαρέμβεη,το Pάμλιον πληρούνται.
Και αμιλλώντ' αι εξοχαί τα πλείστα τις θα πάρη
κάρρα, εφ' ων πλήθη λαού ευδαίμον' αφικνούνται
εν σοβαρά ησύχω ευθυμία.
Διότι ο Aιγύπτιος και εις το πανηγύρι
διατηρεί την σοβαρότητά του.
Μ' άνθη κοσμεί το φέσι του· αλλά το πρόσωπόν του
είν' απλανές. Μονότονον ασμάτιον μορμύρει,
χαρούμενος. Κέφι πολύ έχ' εις τον λογισμόν του,
ολίγιστον εις τα κινήματά του.
Δεν έχει το Μισίρι μας πλουσίαν πρασινάδα,
δεν έχει ρύακας τερπνούς ή βρύσεις,
δεν έχει όρη υψηλά και με σκιάν ευρείαν.
Aλλ' έχει άνθη μαγικά, πύριν' από την δάδα
του Φθα πεσόντα· πνέοντα άγνωστον ευωδίαν
μύρα, εν οις λιποθυμεί η φύσις.
Εν μέσω κύκλου θαυμαστών θερμών επευφημείται
γλυκύς μογάννι φήμης ευρυτάτης,
Εν τη τρεμούση του φωνή ερωτικαί οδύναι
στενάζουσι· το άσμα του πικρά παραπονείται
κατά της ελαφράς Φατμά ή της σκληράς Εμίνε,
κατά της Ζέναπ της πονηροτάτης.
Με τας σκηνάς τας σκιεράς και το ψυχρόν σερμπέτι
διώκονται ο καύσων και η σκόνη.
Φεύγουν αι ώραι ως στιγμαί, ως ίπποι εσπευσμένοι
εν πεδιάδι ομαλή, και η λαμπρά των χαίτη
επί της πανηγύρεως φαιδρώς εξαπλωμένη
το ευτυχές Σαμ ελ Νεσίμ χρυσώνει.
Το ωχρόν μας Μισίρι
με βέλη ο ήλιος πλήρη
πικρίας και πείσματος καίει και δέρει,
και με δίψαν και νόσον το καταπονεί.
Το γλυκύ μας Μισίρι
εν μια γελαστή πανηγύρει
μεθά, λησμονεί, και κοσμείται, και χαίρει,
και τον τύραννον ήλιον περιφρονεί.
(Από τα Αποκηρυγμένα, Ίκαρος 1983)
«Ο Βεϊζαδές προς την ερωμένη του»
Σ' αγαπώ... τι δε αν είσαι κόρη ταπεινού ψαρά
μη τα μάτια σου διά τούτο είναι ήττον λαμπερά,
μη το χέρι σου δεν είναι απ' το γάλα πιο λευκόν,
και το σώμα σου χαρίτων έμπλεον ερωτικών;
Γένος, όνομα, τα πάντα λησμονώ ολοτελώς,
είμαι δούλος σου εμπροστά σου, του ηγεμόνος ο υιός!
Σ' αγαπώ... και σαν σε βλέπω στα τσαΐρια τ' ανθηρά
με τ' αγόρια του χωριού σου να χορεύεις ζωηρά,
τα ζηλεύω, και την τύχην την σκληράν μου θρηνωδώ
όπου δούλος σου να είμαι δια πάντα δεν μπορώ.
Μεταξύ μας έχ' η μοίρα στήσει φοβερόν φραγμόν:
γενεάς αδησωπήτους διερμηνέων και αυθεντών!
O light the candle, John The daylight has almost gone The birds have sung their last The bells call all to mass Sit here by my side For the night is very long There's something I must tell Before I pass along
I joined the brotherhood My books were all to me I scribed the words of God And much of history Many a year was I Perched out upon the sea The waves would wash my tears The wind, my memory
I'd hear the ocean breathe Exhale upon the shore I knew the tempest's blood Its wrath I would endure And so the years went by Within my rocky cell With only a mouse or bird My friend; I loved them well
And so it came to pass I'd come here to Romani And many a year it took Till I arrived here with thee On dusty roads I walked And over mountains high Through rivers running deep Beneath the endless sky
Beneath these jasmine flowers Amidst these cypress trees I give you now my books And all their mysteries Now take the hourglass And turn it on its head For when the sands are still 'Tis then you'll find me dead
O light the candle, John The daylight has almost gone The birds have sung their last The bells call all to mass
Note: The lyrics of the song are an abridged version of a poem by Alfred Noyes: Loreena left out three verses. These verses are given here in italics.
Part One
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding, Riding, riding, The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilts a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
And over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard. And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked. His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter. Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; If they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by the moonlight, Watch for me be the moonlight, I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the casement. His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!) He tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
Part Two
He did not come at the dawning. He did not come at noon; And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching, Marching, marching, King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead. But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed. Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window; Hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest. They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say- 'Look for me by the moonlight; Watch for me by the moonlight; I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!'
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest. Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast. She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
'Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!' Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear; 'Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot,' in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding, Riding, riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.
'Tlot-tlot,' in the frosty silence! 'Tlot-tlot,' in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light. Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; He spurred to the west; he did not know she stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
And back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high. Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat; When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
'Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highwayman comes riding, Riding, Riding, A highwayman comes riding, up to the old in-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard. And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred. He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.'
When the dark wood fell before me And all the paths were overgrown When the priests of pride say there is no other way I tilled the sorrows of stone
I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars
Chorus: Cast your eyes on the ocean Cast your soul to the sea When the dark night seems endless Please remember me
Then the mountain rose before me By the deep well of desire From the fountain of forgiveness Beyond the ice and the fire
Chorus
Though we share this humble path, alone How fragile is the heart Oh give these clay feet wings to fly To touch the face of the stars
Breathe life into this feeble heart Lift this mortal veil of fear Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears We'll rise above these earthly cares
Chorus
Please remember me Please remember me, ...
From: The book of secrets (1997) see the separate lyrics pages for the authors of the lyrics.
Mέσα σ’ ένα κιβώτιο ή μέσα σ’ ένα έπιπλο από πολύτιμον έβενο θα βάλω και θα φυλάξω τα ενδύματα της ζωής μου.
Tα ρούχα τα κυανά. Kαι έπειτα τα κόκκινα, τα πιο ωραία αυτά από όλα. Kαι κατόπιν τα κίτρινα. Kαι τελευταία πάλι τα κυανά, αλλά πολύ πιο ξέθωρα αυτά τα δεύτερα από τα πρώτα.
Θα τα φυλάξω με ευλάβεια και με πολλή λύπη.
Όταν θα φορώ μαύρα ρούχα, και θα κατοικώ μέσα σ’ ένα μαύρο σπίτι, μέσα σε μια κάμαρη σκοτεινή, θα ανοίγω καμιά φορά το έπιπλο με χαρά, με πόθο, και με απελπισία.
Θα βλέπω τα ρούχα και θα θυμούμαι την μεγάλη εορτή – που θα είναι τότε όλως διόλου τελειωμένη.
Όλως διόλου τελειωμένη.
Tα έπιπλα σκορπισμένα άτακτα μες στες αίθουσες. Πιάτα και ποτήρια σπασμένα κατά γης. Όλα τα κεριά καμένα ώς το τέλος. Όλο το κρασί πιωμένο. Όλοι οι καλεσμένοι φευγάτοι. Mερικοί κουρασμένοι θα κάθονται ολομόναχοι, σαν κ’ εμένα, μέσα σε σπίτια σκοτεινά – άλλοι πιο κουρασμένοι θα πήγαν να κοιμηθούν.
ΚΩΝΣΤΑΝΤΙΝΟΣ Π. Καβάφης
Το ποίημα «Ενδύματα» είναι ένα από τα τρία πεζά ποιήματα που έχει συνθέσει. 1894-1897??
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