- Ποίηση από τους άδοξους ποιητές των αιώνων,και όχι μόνο... - .-= Η ΨΥΧΗ =-.

And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!


PAINT me a cavernous waste shore
Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.

Display me Aeolus above 5
Reviewing the insurgent gales
Which tangle Ariadne’s hair
And swell with haste the perjured sails.

Morning stirs the feet and hands
(Nausicaa and Polypheme). 10
Gesture of orang-outang
Rises from the sheets in steam.

This withered root of knots of hair
Slitted below and gashed with eyes,
This oval O cropped out with teeth: 15
The sickle motion from the thighs

Jackknifes upward at the knees
Then straightens out from heel to hip
Pushing the framework of the bed
And clawing at the pillow slip. 20

Sweeney addressed full length to shave
Broadbottomed, pink from nape to base,
Knows the female temperament
And wipes the suds around his face.

(The lengthened shadow of a man 25
Is history, said Emerson
Who had not seen the silhouette
Of Sweeney straddled in the sun.)

Tests the razor on his leg
Waiting until the shriek subsides. 30
The epileptic on the bed
Curves backward, clutching at her sides.

The ladies of the corridor
Find themselves involved, disgraced,
Call witness to their principles 35
And deprecate the lack of taste

Observing that hysteria
Might easily be misunderstood;
Mrs. Turner intimates
It does the house no sort of good. 40

But Doris, towelled from the bath,
Enters padding on broad feet,
Bringing sal volatile
And a glass of brandy neat.

T.S. ELLIOT

"ΣΤΟ ΣΚΟΤΑΔΙ ΤΟ ΜΑΤΙ ΣΥΛΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙ ΚΑΛΥΤΕΡΑ ΤΟ ΠΝΕΥΜΑΤΙΚΟ ΦΩΣ"

WEBSTER was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.

Daffodil bulbs instead of balls 5
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries.

Donne, I suppose, was such another
Who found no substitute for sense, 10
To seize and clutch and penetrate;
Expert beyond experience,

He knew the anguish of the marrow
The ague of the skeleton;
No contact possible to flesh 15
Allayed the fever of the bone.
. . . . .
Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye
Is underlined for emphasis;
Uncorseted, her friendly bust
Gives promise of pneumatic bliss. 20

The couched Brazilian jaguar
Compels the scampering marmoset
With subtle effluence of cat;
Grishkin has a maisonette;

The sleek Brazilian jaguar 25
Does not in its arboreal gloom
Distil so rank a feline smell
As Grishkin in a drawing-room.

And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm; 30
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm.

T.S. ELLIOT

"ΣΤΟ ΣΚΟΤΑΔΙ ΤΟ ΜΑΤΙ ΣΥΛΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙ ΚΑΛΥΤΕΡΑ ΤΟ ΠΝΕΥΜΑΤΙΚΟ ΦΩΣ"

Η πηγή

Φεγγάρι πεθαμένο μου
για ξαναβγές και πάλι
θέλω να δω το αίμα σου
δεν έκαιγες λυχνάρι
φώτιζες
το φοβισμένο πρόσωπο
θέλω να δω
το φοβισμένο πρόσωπο
τώρα
πάλι και πάλι
τότε
όλο το σώμα μου ήταν
μιά πληγή
φεγγάρι
μια πηγή
και φώτιζε
της νύχτας το σκοτάδι

Φεγγάρι πεθαμένο μου
θέλω να δω το αίμα σου
τώρα
πάλι και πάλι

quote:

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κατ'αρχας θα ήθελα να προτείνε σε όλους την ταινία "Ο κύκλος των αμένων ποιητών" .

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Ανεπιφύλακτα και μη σου πω και υποχρεωτικά φίλε μου.

"ΣΤΟ ΣΚΟΤΑΔΙ ΤΟ ΜΑΤΙ ΣΥΛΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙ ΚΑΛΥΤΕΡΑ ΤΟ ΠΝΕΥΜΑΤΙΚΟ ΦΩΣ"