Two Poems
to my son
From the gulf of Sorrento, you can just make out Gavdos
Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto tanto bene, sai
È una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e ’vvene, sai
A chain that breaks in the breath of your voice
The same tape in the aging Ford again and again Pavarotti's ode recorded live in Paris [Lucio Dalla lulled me at nights, but I betrayed him]
This god-forsaken generation drained of its own blood
I love you as much as the whole of the earth/ Look at the lights in the sea
Unending nights and the propeller breaking the waves [I must match the proper reckless word to my irreverent years] Later the memory holy moments Imagination an endless ocean [And how can I swim with my limited education?]
Our winding descent Absolute bliss to have you beside me A hard world full of landslides
Listening again and again to Pavarotti singing Enrico Caruso in the aging cassette player of the aging Ford switching gear winding down touching the sea Immobile lake the two of us Time stretched before us but we didn't know [We don't touch it because it streams away in the void]
Hard crossings fill your breath The hand on the wheel
The frame the sea [how the open horizon opens up my soul]
Heat with canyons slowly dissipating miles
[I know no names I never loved geography Maybe because my life seemed transient]
We mustn't get lost I'll find my way again
In the cassette player Caruso, Pavarotti, Lucio Dalla, Gavdos wait on the other side You next to me
Qui dove il mare luccica
E tira forte il vento
Su una vecchia terrazza
Davanti al golfo di Surriento
Samaria weighs anchor The journey must go on
We have a lot to say, some day
Catch up with the fleeting time
In place of a CV
I often confess to the district tax collector
to the court representatives
who look in vain for my name in their lists
To the gilded vestments of the bishops I confess
To the open windows recently barred
To the neighborhood butcher
To the policeman patrolling alone at nights
To the bailiff with scores of summonses
that he releases to the wind like kites
To the court martial I confess and their harsh punishment
[terror and authority forever wounds in bodies]
I speak of my sins
I apologize from birth to have a clear conscience on the guillotine
I always take care
to maintain my good relations with executioners
Kostas Kremmydas Two Poems
to my son
From the gulf of Sorrento, you can just make out Gavdos
Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto tanto bene, sai
È una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e ’vvene, sai
A chain that breaks in the breath of your voice
The same tape in the aging Ford again and again Pavarotti's ode recorded live in Paris [Lucio Dalla lulled me at nights, but I betrayed him]
This god-forsaken generation drained of its own blood
I love you as much as the whole of the earth/ Look at the lights in the sea
Unending nights and the propeller breaking the waves [I must match the proper reckless word to my irreverent years] Later the memory holy moments Imagination an endless ocean [And how can I swim with my limited education?]
Our winding descent Absolute bliss to have you beside me A hard world full of landslides
Listening again and again to Pavarotti singing Enrico Caruso in the aging cassette player of the aging Ford switching gear winding down touching the sea Immobile lake the two of us Time stretched before us but we didn't know [We don't touch it because it streams away in the void]
Hard crossings fill your breath The hand on the wheel
The frame the sea [how the open horizon opens up my soul]
Heat with canyons slowly dissipating miles
[I know no names I never loved geography Maybe because my life seemed transient]
We mustn't get lost I'll find my way again
In the cassette player Caruso, Pavarotti, Lucio Dalla, Gavdos wait on the other side You next to me
Qui dove il mare luccica
E tira forte il vento
Su una vecchia terrazza
Davanti al golfo di Surriento
Samaria weighs anchor The journey must go on
We have a lot to say, some day
Catch up with the fleeting time
In place of a CV
I often confess to the district tax collector
to the court representatives
who look in vain for my name in their lists
To the gilded vestments of the bishops I confess
To the open windows recently barred
To the neighborhood butcher
To the policeman patrolling alone at nights
To the bailiff with scores of summonses
that he releases to the wind like kites
To the court martial I confess and their harsh punishment
[terror and authority forever wounds in bodies]
I speak of my sins
I apologize from birth to have a clear conscience on the guillotine
I always take care
to maintain my good relations with executioners