Abyss and Song
George Sarantaris left behind a voluminous body of work, consisting of over a thousand poems as well as philosophical essays, critiques, and translations. Despite his prolific output and his active involvement in the Greek literary scene, he is treated as a marginal member of the celebrated Generation of ’30. This is perhaps due to the fact that little of his work was published during his short life: only four slender self-published collections of poetry, and a handful of poems in literary magazines. Whether his work found an audience or agreed with others’ sensibilities did not matter to the poet; he wrote out of necessity. Even while stationed at the front lines of the 1940 Greco-Italian War, he would busily scribble verse onto scraps. From the moment he decided to move to Greece and write in a new poetic language, to the moment of his death at age thirty-two, he was committed to developing his unique poetic idiom.
The title of this selection, Abyss and Song, taken from the first line of the poem “Anxiety,” is a tribute to the dual nature of the philosopher-poet, who oscillated between the “abyss” of contemplation and the “song” of poetry. Sing, the poet ultimately exhorts (in a 1938 prose poem), Do not cover up your voice with hands or words... let us recognize you by your voice alone, to love you...
—Pria Louka
Flyaways
For Miss P.R.
Music suspended
the erotic moment dissolves
a tear flashes like lightning,
and in vanishing is trailed by
sweet tender longing
the “communion of hearts”
Ἀφέλειες
Στὴ δίδa Π.Ρ.
Μετέωρη μουσικὴ
διαλύεται ἡ ἐρωτικὴ στιγμὴ
λάμπει ἕνα δάκρυ σὰν ἀστραπή,
καὶ στὸν ἀφανισμὸ τὸ ἀκολουθεῖ
γλυκὸς τρυφερὸς πόθος
ἡ «συνεννόηση τῶν καρδιῶν»
The sun rests on the palm of a god
where his fragrant light melts;
absent himself from human affairs,
the glint of his face dies
Ὁ ἥλιος ἀκκουμπάει στὴν ἀπαλάμη ἑνὸς θεοῦ
ὅπου τὸ μυρωμένο φῶς του λυώνει·
μέσα στ’ ἀνθρώπινα ὁ ἴδιος λείπει,
ἡ ἀνταύγεια τοῦ προσώπου του πεθαίνει
Something neutral, like slumber, follows after
the sensation I have of the void, hides the fear.
Κάτι οὐδέτερο, ὅπως ὁ ὕπνος, ἀκολουθεῖ τὴν αἴσθηση
ποὺ ἔχω τοῦ κενοῦ καλύπτει τὸ φόβο της.
Designs
The impression of light creates the extraordinary man
whose fate is to articulate the truth
with the sincerity that the dead man kept
in his secret
Σχέδια
Ἡ ἐντύπωση τοῦ φωτὸς δημιουργεῖ τὸν ὑπέροχον ἄντρα
ποὺ μοῖρα του ν’ ἀρθρώσει τὴν ἀλήθεια
μὲ τὴν εἰλικρίνεια ποὺ φύλαξε ὁ νεκρὸς
στὸ μυστικό του
When I kissed your hair
I loved you truly
I came to know you
I hugged you and my body
I took you from the tree
From the root
Where I too was born
Ὅταν φίλησα τὰ μαλλιά σου
Σὲ ἀγάπησα ἀληθινὰ
Σὲ γνώρισα
Σὲ ἀγκάλιασα μαζὺ μὲ τὸ κορμί μου
Σὲ πῆρα ἀπὸ τὸ δέντρο
Ἀπὸ τὴ ρίζα
Ὅπου γεννήθηκα κ’ ἐγὼ
The Desert
Morning hours of a desert
Girl who talks with a shadow
Perhaps the sun respects the silence
And settles like the water of a lake
Ἡ ἐρημος
Οἱ πρωϊνὲς ὧρες μιᾶς ἐρήμου
Κόρη ποὺ κουβεντιάζει μ’ ἕναν ἴσκιο
Ἴσως ὁ ἥλιος σέβεται τὴ σιωπὴ
Καὶ κάθεται σὰν τὸ νερὸ μιᾶς λίμνης
Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Apollo Pursuing Daphne, c. 1755/1760. Oil on canvas.
I feel a need to devour the days
Raw even
The other food does not matter
But for the body alone
Which is unfortunately a stranger to me
I want the stretch of days
To cleanse my hands there
Through the bare hours a moisture
To claim that I too flow with them
The world and I
Αἰσθάνομαι ἀνάγκη νὰ τρώγω τὶς ἡμέρες
Ἔστω ἄγουρες
Ἡ ἄλλη τροφὴ δὲ λογαριάζεται
Παρὰ μονάχα ἀπὸ τὸ σῶμα
Ποὺ δυστυχῶς μοῦ εἶναι ξένο
Θέλω τὸ διάστημα τῶν ἡμερῶν
Ἐκεῖ τὰ χέρια μου νὰ πλύνω
Μέσα στὶς γυμνὲς ὥρες μιὰ ὑγρασία
Νὰ πῶ πὼς τρέχω κ’ ἐγὼ μαζί τους
Ἐγὼ κι ὁ κόσμος
The bees sweetened remorse
And they took the crime on their back
They carried it to the lake and drowned it
And it was warm, the remembrance of sleep
Οἱ μέλισσες ἐγλύκαναν τὴν τύψη
Καὶ πήρανε τὸ ἔγκλημα στὴν πλάτη
Τὸ φέρανε στὴ λίμνη καὶ τὸ πνίξανε
Κ’ εἴταν ζεστὴ ἡ ἀνάμνηση τοῦ ὕπνου
Dust sleep, moon,
Off the bodies
Place sleep in the spring
. . .
Trilling, the hour
Will cleanse us
Of the noise
Σκούπισε τὸν ὕπνο σελήνη
Ἀπὸ τὰ σώματα
Βάλε τὸν ὕπνο στὴν κρήνη
. . .
Κελαϊδιστὰ ἡ ὥρα
Θὰ μᾶς πλύνει
Ἀπὸ τὸ θόρυβο
You let your hair loose over the sea
And the waves caress it
The sun has gone
But the day stopped in its tracks
And watches your hair
Winds descend from the mountain
They settle on the shore
And make their voices go round
To catch you
Now that you approach dry land
And you tremble like the cloud
Loosen your tongue and sing
The rocks will gleam again
Our life will gather upon them
To enclose you in embrace
Ἄφησες τὰ μαλλιά σου νὰ τρέχουν πάνω στὴ θάλασσα|
Καὶ τὰ κύματα τὰ χαϊδεύουν
Ὁ ἥλιος ἔφυγε
Ἀλλὰ ἡ μέρα σταμάτησε τὴν πορεία της
Καὶ κυττάζει τὰ μαλλιά σου
Ἀγέρες κατεβαίνουν ἀπ’ τὸ βουνὸ
Κάθονται στὸ γιαλὸ
Καὶ γύρους κάνουν τὶς φωνές τους
Γιὰ νὰ σὲ πιάσουν
Τώρα ποὺ ζυγώνεις τὴ στεριὰ
Καὶ τρέμεις σὰν τὸ σύννεφο
Ἄφησε τὴ λαλιά σου νὰ κελαϊδήσει
Πάλι θ’ ἀστράψουν οἱ βράχοι
Πάνω τους θὰ μαζευτεῖ ἡ ζωή μας
Γιὰ νὰ σὲ κλείσει στὸ στῆθος
Abyss and Song: Selected Poems by George Sarantaris, translated from the Greek by Pria Louka is published by World Poetry Books and available May 11, 2023.
Pria Louka is a writer and translator of Greek poetry. She is the recipient of a Fulbright Fellowship that has allowed her to pursue her passion for modern Greek literature. She is the author of The Courage to Walk and Write (Alphabetics) and has published an extensive photographic essay on Greece. Louka, a graduate of Princeton University, currently lives in Thessaloniki, Greece.
