ombion

Yet you ask on what account I write so many love-lyrics
And whence this soft book comes into my mouth.
Neither Calliope nor Apollo sung hese things into my ear,
My genius is no more than a girl.

Me tis vlefarides kai ta aftia na me xypnane, gia tin hari tou anti-here,@ the gentler hour of an ultimate day, me characteres askew kai to feggari she-don prominima tou apwn fthinopourou, psahnw tin skia mou sto krasi kai sto idrwmeno maxilari. O kairos -agglomathis gar, me (x)filenades vories- den afinei kan tin exatmisi tou erwta na lavei Choran. Ehei aggaziarei apo prin tin ygrasia. Kai den tha hionisei, toulahiston mehri ton Fevrouario. Etsi Baudrilliard-ika, me tis lexeis therapevw tis simatodotimenes ekfores twn matiwn kai twn daktylwn. Les kai mporw / mporw les;

Me happy, night full of brightness;
Oh couch made happy by my long delectations;
How many words talked out with abundant candles; Struggles when the lights were taken away;
Now with bared breasts she wrestled against me,
Tunic spread in delay;
And she then opening my eyelids fallen in sleep,
Her lips upon them; and it was her mouth saying:
Sluggard!

In how many varied embraces, our changing arms,
Her kisses, how many, lingering on my lips.
"Turn not Venus into a blined motion
Eyes are the guides of love,
Paris took Helen naked coming from the bed of Menelaus,
Endymion's naked body, bright bait for Diana,"
-such atleast is the story.

While our fates twine together, state we our eyes with love;
For long night comes upon you
and a day when no day returns.
Let the gods lay chains upon us
so that no day shall unbind them.

Fool who would set a term to love's madness
For the sun shall drive with black horses,
earth shall bring wheat from barley,
The flood shall move toward the fountain
Ere love know moderations,
The fish shall swim in dry streams.
No, now while it may be, let not the fruit of life cease.

Dry wreaths drop their petals,
their stalks are woven in baskets,
To-day we take the great breath of lovers,
to-morrow fate shuts us in.

Though you give all your kisses
you give but few.

Nor can I shift my pains to other,
Hers will I be dead,
If she confer such nights upon me,
long is my life, long in years,
If she give me many,
God am I for the time.

Ezra Pound, from Homage to Sextus Propertius, 1917

Opws otan skeftomaste kai mas rwtane ti skeftesai; ki emeis leme tipota, enw theloume na poume ta panta i
esena.

here-tw vouleumata /

And he would
paternaly re
inscribe
poian amartia ehw kanei kai mou 'houn leipsei ta
filia; x
orkizwntas
tin aga
π
pros
path/onta
s

So why this gracious melancholia?
Is it because anger is no use?

nocturne
melodia tou aposperiti
Τικ-τικ
augerini i poreia
τικι-τικι-τακ
outstretched/tis thlipsis
katevasmata/Alla
tempus palm/(o)s
θέλω πουλί μου,
disseminate
aman
aman
aman
[sparmeno ston anemo]
να μαντεύω
aura+nothkia
που πηγαίνεις

[ipnos,
dili,
erotimatiko]

Γιατί όταν σου μιλώ,
Αρχίζει της καρδιάς το
τικ
τικ
τικι
τικι
τακ

there's no point in believing in tick-tock-time, unless, of course, you're a working (wo)man who has to bike to latsia at 5 in the afternoon in order to listen to people spouting ibsen and drinking cigarettes. luckily, i am not.
so without tick-tock-time, what time is left?

Time for you and time for me
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea...

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I care?" and "Do I dare?"

panta to avrio, avrio pale, miloumen avrio, enna ta poumen avrio, na se dw new avrio, avrio en kala, jai xana avrio, uparxei to avrio, ara en entaxei avrio.
From TS to WS, in true H. Bloom anxiety,

Prospero: What is't thou canst demand?
Ariel: My liberty.
Prosperop: Before the time be out? No more!

patience k. dem. something the vodkas fail to teach.
apla na evroume jai mian isoropia pleon, opws lalei jai o Pound,

"Anyone can run to excesses,
"It is easy to shoot past the mark.
It is hard to stand firm in the middle."
...

"The blossoms of the apricot
"blow from east to the west,
And I have tried to keep them from falling."

- CANTO XIII

alli mera enna sas pw yia ton Phil jai ta yialouthkia tou. Oi simera omws.
Mallon avrio.

or not yet / am

Se gnwrizw myrwdia pou mou trweis ta swthika / Kai gemizeis ta krevvatia m' eswpsyha - jai fagia

(...)-Or so I fancy, sensing the smoke and sweat,
the wonderful feel of girls. Why be out here?
But then, why be in there? Sex, yes, but what
Is sex? Surely, to think the lion's share
Of happiness is found by couples - sheer

Inaccuracy, as far as I'm concerned.
What calls me is that lifted, rough-tongued bell
(Art if you like) whose individual sound
Insists I too am individual.
It speaks; I hear; others may hear as well,

But not for me, nor I for them; and so
With happiness. Therefore I stay outside,
Believing this; and they maul to and fro,
Believing that; and both are satisfied,
If no onr has misjudged himself. Or lied.

Kai etsi

(...) The glare of that much-mentioned brilliance,love,
Broke out, to show,
Its bright incipience sailing above,
Still promising to solve, and satisfy,
And set unchangeably in order. So
To pile them back, to cry,
Was hard, without lamely admitting how
It had not done so then, and could not now.

Philip, Philip Larkin.
Imero-logiaka, ametrito to alkool, stimmeno me sapouni masalias kai efhi.
Mpanio -

6 vodkes (!) and still u r drinking my mind.
Simera eiha ta mathkia tou aimatos.
p.s.* un-con-texted (christo): (1)I eilikrineia tis idonis tou keimenou (text), tis daimonika dwsmenis lexis. (2)Hwris, pia, tis meta-mfiesmenes, dilladi allegorikes, (con) elpidofores epithimies twn txt-s sou. / "Twra pia ehw erwteftei m'ola ta epikoinwniaka mesa."

*peri scriptum kai ws eitheste, an thelete, always already tahy-dromimeno meta -pws allote- to here of the text

'prwta vriskoume ta logia me megali prosoxi mia pou alloi grafoun xronia ki isws ta xoune pei
ke siga siga arxizeis na tous vazeis mousiki pou olo kati na thimizei ki as min kseroume ti'
always out of context, uncontexted (demetri) loukianos kilaidonis & preservation hall jazz band; na pou antexete o karouzos me kriologima: xrisafenio kriologima/ sta oloxantha matia - giatreuome: me krasaki amerimno, twn iskiwn to thauma, xana xana 'home is where one starts from' ki oute pou i kathe mas lexi edwse
akoma ,
e la nave va

Etsi loipon me Milosz: There is so much death, and that is why affection / for pigtails, bright-colored skirts in the wind, / for paper boats no more durable than we are..., me BS Johnson: trying to say something about the writing and nothing being an answer to the loneliness to the lack of loving (...) I have to write something, to pass the time, being interested in so much, everything really, everything, compulsively, nihil humanum a me alienum puto and all that jaz., me Lorca: He wants. We all want. But this is his sin: to want. One shouldn't want, one should love. And so he fails. (...) Poetry doesn't need skilled practitioners, she needs lovers, and she lays down brambles and shards of glass for the hands that search for her with love., ola afta pou diavasa kathws eleipes, kai me kako fai kai lypi, here xana, me tin Achilleio plevra mou chorotopothetimeni kai taftohronos perivlimeni apo ton fovo tou fou, shedon sta exw tou Septemvri, apo mesa, me kleista parathyra kai 40 vathmous kelsiou, ton L. Cohen na sigontarei ekmaievomena deja-vous, kai ta egkeniazomena krevvatia apo myrwdies heiragwgimenes, etsi loipon, o Gyrismos i i Epistrofi, stin parigoria twn daktylwn, meres -kai prosehws: nyhtes- pou i mousiki den tou kanei ta hatiria kai zei osa den sumvainoun gyrw tou pisw apo tis vlefarides, kai eniote, tin Vodka.
Ta heili mou se kratisan, daneiko ap' ta dika tis, mehr/is here:

It is true. We have a beautiful time
As long as time is time at all.

Epanodos ston Breton kai sto whiskey
pushing back the tears
teras
kai sfiggwntas to hamogelo
sta pedal-
i zesti den epitrepei akomi peripatous edw
katw. [Htes akomi irthe xana stin skepsi mou o haraktirismos
ex-colonial myrwmenos me bahari kai Attika]
Afanizetai o hronos tis autopepoithisis ki antikathistate me twn tou
"doer".
...
Toulahiston esy eihes to tharos.