- \** ΕΣΩ...AνατροπΗ **/ - .-= Η ΨΥΧΗ =-.

Slip slidin’ away
Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

I know a man
He came from my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said "Dolores,
I live in fear
My love for you’s so overpowering
I’m afraid that I will disappear"

Slip slidin’ away
Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain’t got no rain
She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

Slip slidin’ away
Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

And I know a father
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things he’d done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again

Slip slidin’ away
Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

God only knows
God makes his plan
The information’s unavailable
To the mortal man
We work our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we’re gliding down the highway
When in fact we’re slip slidin’ away

Slip slidin’ away
Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

Slip slidin’ away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away

PS: Έτσι, ένα μικρό ευχαριστώ για την φωτογραφία και το τραγούδι που μας χάρισε ο 1900.

Post office clerks put up signs saying position closed
And secretaries turn off typewriters and put on their coats
Janitors padlock the gates
For security guards to patrol
And bachelors phone up their friends for a drink
While the married ones turn on a chat show

And they’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Gentlemen time please, you know we can’t serve anymore
Now the traffic lights change to stop, when there’s nothing to go
And by five o’clock everything’s dead
And every third car is a cab
And ignorant people sleep in their beds
Like the doped white mice in the college lab

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Telephone exchanges click while there’s nobody there
The martians could land in the carpark and no one would care
Close-circuit cameras in department stores shoot the same video every day
And the stars of these films neither die nor get killed
Just survive constant action replay

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Bill hoardings advertise products that nobody needs
While angry from manchester writes to complain about
All the repeats on t.v.
And computer terminals report some gains
On the values of copper and tin
While american businessmen snap up van goghs
For the price of a hospital wing

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
They’ll burn down the synagogues at six o’clock
And we’ll all go along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

"Φύλλα από τον Κήπο του Μορύα" ...

Περασα απ την κεντρικη πλατεια της Λαρισας και εκτος οτι θυμηθηκα
τα παλια βλεπεις υπηρξα εκει κατα την διαρκεια της θητειας μου στα οπλα ειδα και τουτο και το τραβηξα για σενα.

χμ...πες μου φιλε δικο σου ειναι;

μακια

cprtght@tm@2005

(«The Coming Of Wisdom With Time» by William Butler Yeats)

Druid: What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?

Fergus: This would I say, most wise of living souls:
Young subtle Conchubar sat close by me
When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,
And what to me was burden without end,
To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown
Upon his head to cast away my sorrow.

Druid: What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?

Fergus: A king and proud! and that is my despair.
I feast amid my people on the hill,
And pace the woods, and drive my chariot-wheels
In the white border of the murmuring sea;
And still I feel the crown upon my head

Druid: What would you, Fergus?

Fergus: Be no more a king
But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.

Druid: Look on my thin grey hair and hollow cheeks
And on these hands that may not lift the sword,
This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.
No womanΆs loved me, no man sought my help.

Fergus: A king is but a foolish labourer
Who wastes his blood to be anotherΆs dream.

Druid: Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.

Fergus: I see my life go drifting like a river
From change to change; I have been many things―
A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light
Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,
An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,
A king sitting upon a chair of gold―
And all these things were wonderful and great;
But now I have grown nothing, knowing all.
Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow
Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured thing!

«Fergus And The Druid» by William Butler Yeats.

Από τα ρήγματα
Με μύθους και λυγμούς
Γκρεμοτσακίζονται ψυχές
Και τις θυμόμαστε.

Πρέπει να ξανακαρφώσω το στερέωμα
Μα πώς να ανέβω
Αυτή τη χαλασμένη μουσική
Με το σφυρί ανάμεσα στα μάτια
Και την ψυχή στο στόμα για καρφί.

Δεν έχουν τελειωμό τα μερεμέτια
Σ αυτό το σάπιο σύμπαν.

-----------------
«Τ αστέρια σκουριάζουν», Διονύσης Καψάλης
(«Με μια τρελή σοδειά», εκδ. Aγρα.)

Μια φορά πολύ παλιά
πάνω στις γης το χώμα
σπόρος έπεσε μικρός
και δε φύτρωσε ακόμα

Ψάχνουν άδικα να βρουν
του σπόρου το βοτάνι
του έρωτα την πίκρα λένε
θα μπορούσε να γλυκάνει

Μόνο εγώ το βρήκα αυτό
το μαγικό βοτάνι
που φυτρώνει δε σας λέω
αμάν γιατί δε κάνει...

Ε, να ξημερώσει η μέρα να μετρηθούμε
να δούμε πόσοι απ΄την παρέα μείναμε
όταν κινήσει ο πόλεμος
τα αστέρια πάλι τόσα θα'ναι..

Ποιός σ'έμαθε να γεύεσαι ερημιές
να ξεδιψάς με το ποτό που κρύβουνε οι κάκτοι
όλα τα μπάρκα σου σε πλήρωσαν ρωγμές
μα εσύ τον κήπο σου ποτέ δεν όρισες με φράχτη.

Ποιός σ'ύφανε με ίνες πορφυρές
στου φεγγαριού τη χάση να εκπέμπεις πύρινη αύρα
πάντα ζωγράφιζες τις θάλασσες βαθειές
και στη σκακιέρα διάλεγες να παίζεις με τα μαύρα.

****καλως σας βρήσκω..
σας αφήνω ένα ποίημα - άσμα του Σωκράτη που τα σπάει...

Labour and longing and despair the long day brings;
Patient till evening men watch the sun go west;
Deferred, expected night at last brings sleep and rest:
Sufficient for the day are the day’s evil things!

At last the tranquil Angelus of evening rings
Night’s curtain down for comfort and oblivion
Of all the vanities observed by the sun:
Sufficient for the day are the day’s evil things!

So, some time, when the last of all our evenings
Crowneth memorially the last of all our days,
Not loth to take his poppies man goes down and says,
“Sufficient for the day were the day’s evil things!”

“Vesperal” by Ernest Dowson

Let us go hence: the night is now at hand;
The day is overworn, the birds all flown;
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown;
Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,
Broods like an owl; we cannot understand
Laughter or tears, for we have only known
Surpassing vanity: vain things alone
Have driven our perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, where's rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.

Alatariel

bitch and bites

Α.Ρ.

ΜΑΖΙ...