Sunday, November 21, 2010

Friday, July 23, 2010

Because of you

... αλί

Because of you
the tears dead in my eyes
they freeze until I’m blind
the eyes a gift from you

Because of you
the scratches on my face
will never be erased
by someone else’s warmth

Because of you
the winter feeds my heart
while summer blows and burns
my disappearing youth

My love is gone
Never feel again
Because of love
I feel nothing

Because of love
I feel nothing

Because of you
I’ll never bleed again
the agony of pain
will never bruise or start

Because of you
our passion turns to lead
with all my lovers fed
with pieces from my heart

My love is done
Never feel again
Because of love
I feel nothing

Because of love
I feel nothing

Because of you
Because of you

Because of love
I feel nothing

Because of love
I feel nothing

(τί τύπισσα η αοιδός...)

Sunday, July 18, 2010

The beginning of memory

There's a story in an ancient play about birds called The Birds
And it's a short story from before the world began
From a time when there was no earth, no land.
Only air and birds everywhere.

But the thing was there was no place to land.
Because there was no land.
So they just circled around and around.
Because this was before the world began.

And the sound was deafening. Songbirds were everywhere.
Billions and billions and billions of birds.

And one of these birds was a lark and one day her father died.
And this was a really big problem because what should they do with the body?
There was no place to put the body because there was no earth.

And finally the lark had a solution.
She decided to bury her father in the back if her own head.
And this was the beginning of memory.
Because before this no one could remember a thing.
They were just constantly flying in circles.
Constantly flying in huge circles

Laurie Anderson ...

Πολύ καλό.
Αληθινά η αρχή της μνήμης κάπως έτσι...
και η συνέχειά της επίσης, οι μορφές της.
Και η βασανιστική πλευρά της. Ακόμη.

Και αν δεν υπήρχε η μνήμη (αυτό το έχει απαντήσει και η Δημουλά),
όμως αν δεν υπήρχε η μνήμη,
τότε θα πετούσαμε
μονίμως
σε κύκλους.

Saturday, July 03, 2010

Χαρίστε μου αυτόν τον χορό

Στον "Ταρσανά" του ταρσανά,

με χήνες μαύρες και πολύχρωμα γατιά...

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και ανκόρ, ανκόρρρρρρρρ