Theseus
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Αυτό είναι η επεξεργασμένη έκδοση του παραπάνω ποιήματος στην αγγλική και τη επιδίδω στους συμφορουμίτες μου με κάθε επιφύλαξη:-
I
Ο sweet & bitter island, I try to voice your pain,
O island sore-oppressed, your humble servant I remain.
You are the heartbeat of the sea, a flower-laden bower;
Can double, treble savages your lovely bloom deflower?
How haplessly the sorrowing fish drift aimless in your sea,
The while the gambling infidels decide your destiny.
Courage! little daughter ours, to you a child is born,
hymn to the joy and sorrow of life, and bell on Easter morn!
II
O faintly trembling golden chord drawn taut upon the air:
A songbird trilling smiles and joy midst people everywhere.
And how they've now entwined you in a blood-bespattered skein--
Our anger sharpened in its sheath amid our grief and pain!
And, chanting the Trisagion, that figure, pure of harm,
received a spray of bullets instead of bay and palm.
And from afar he raises high the great paternal hand
to bless the blackened bread of those forced from their native land.
III
Keep vigorous the tears of grief, keep vigorous the blood
in case your heart should be beclouded by denial's flood.
This light cannot be hidden and, in its searching ray,
it tracks within the blackest night the killers' murderous way.
This light is inexhaustible, unreaped by foes' machete;
Sprinkle all the lovely dead with petal and rice confetti.
Then on the table of the Great Powers keep the fist unmoved:
For here the just man and the double-dealer will be proved.
IV
How many dead, how many naked, sorrowful, hounded out
at night together in a group in terror walk about!
O! the ground is far too small for our dead, inapt are tears for their death:
they vowed their all to the holy struggle until their final breath.
They briefly stand, and stooping thus--each but a moment lingers--
and see! pull out the bullets from their injuries with their fingers.
And, strong, they take their death by storm, once more standing tall;
and hurl themselves into the fray the very first of all!
V
O ancient island, new island, isle of the martyred dead,
on the teeth of the wild animals your eternal light has bled.
Take the oath, my brothers, in the centre of creation
that wrong at last be brought to trial, and right hold celebration.
And Glory, walking there on the ridge, amid the charred black stone,
with Freedom and Joy for company no more should walk alone.
Courage! little daughter ours, to you a child is born,
hymn to the joy and sorrow of life, and bell on Easter morn!
Note:- for some reason, the penultimate stanza comes out as above and I cannot alter it. [nickel: fixed] I also take the opportunity here to acknowledge all the help given me by this site & to my friend Bill Berg on translatum as well as help from other friends in the Wordreference forum.:)
I
Ο sweet & bitter island, I try to voice your pain,
O island sore-oppressed, your humble servant I remain.
You are the heartbeat of the sea, a flower-laden bower;
Can double, treble savages your lovely bloom deflower?
How haplessly the sorrowing fish drift aimless in your sea,
The while the gambling infidels decide your destiny.
Courage! little daughter ours, to you a child is born,
hymn to the joy and sorrow of life, and bell on Easter morn!
II
O faintly trembling golden chord drawn taut upon the air:
A songbird trilling smiles and joy midst people everywhere.
And how they've now entwined you in a blood-bespattered skein--
Our anger sharpened in its sheath amid our grief and pain!
And, chanting the Trisagion, that figure, pure of harm,
received a spray of bullets instead of bay and palm.
And from afar he raises high the great paternal hand
to bless the blackened bread of those forced from their native land.
III
Keep vigorous the tears of grief, keep vigorous the blood
in case your heart should be beclouded by denial's flood.
This light cannot be hidden and, in its searching ray,
it tracks within the blackest night the killers' murderous way.
This light is inexhaustible, unreaped by foes' machete;
Sprinkle all the lovely dead with petal and rice confetti.
Then on the table of the Great Powers keep the fist unmoved:
For here the just man and the double-dealer will be proved.
IV
How many dead, how many naked, sorrowful, hounded out
at night together in a group in terror walk about!
O! the ground is far too small for our dead, inapt are tears for their death:
they vowed their all to the holy struggle until their final breath.
They briefly stand, and stooping thus--each but a moment lingers--
and see! pull out the bullets from their injuries with their fingers.
And, strong, they take their death by storm, once more standing tall;
and hurl themselves into the fray the very first of all!
V
O ancient island, new island, isle of the martyred dead,
on the teeth of the wild animals your eternal light has bled.
Take the oath, my brothers, in the centre of creation
that wrong at last be brought to trial, and right hold celebration.
And Glory, walking there on the ridge, amid the charred black stone,
with Freedom and Joy for company no more should walk alone.
Courage! little daughter ours, to you a child is born,
hymn to the joy and sorrow of life, and bell on Easter morn!
Note:- for some reason, the penultimate stanza comes out as above and I cannot alter it. [nickel: fixed] I also take the opportunity here to acknowledge all the help given me by this site & to my friend Bill Berg on translatum as well as help from other friends in the Wordreference forum.:)
