Greece
When eros inspires
And how all love-sick mortals he compels.
He quickens their desire and gives it might,
And teaches them to wrestle in the night.
He cheapens gold, to blemish he gives charm.
And to the weakling lends a warrior’s arm;
He makes the coward dare, the sluggard race,
The awkward he endows with every grace.
Love made Rotokritos to hold his ground
And to defy the ten who gathered round.
From EROTOCRITOS (lines543-552)
Vizentzos Cornaros (16th-17th Century)
Γρικήσετε του έρωτα θαμάσματα τα κάνει
κ' εισέ θανάτους εκατό, όσ' αγαπούν, τσι βάνει.
Πληθένει τως την όρεξι και δύναμι τως δίδει,
μαθαίνει τσι να πολεμού τη νύχτα στο σκοτείδι,
κάνει τον ακριβό φτηνό, τον άσκημο ερωτάρι
κάνει και τον ανήμπορο άντρα και παλληκάρι,
τον φοβιτσάριν άφοβο, πρόθυμο τον οκνιάρι
κάνει και τον ακάτεχο να ξέρη πάσα χάρι.
Η αγάπη το Ρωτόκριτο κάνει να πολεμήση
με δέκα, κ' εις τον έρωτα ολπίζει να νικήση.
Some days ago, a young student (16 years old) came into the library (where I work) and asked me if I had the book of "Erotocritos". I was a bit surprised by his choice. I told him: "Hey! Did you fall in love and you want to dedicate some poetic lines to your girl?" He smiled and nodded "yes"....
Isn't it astonishing? Emotions stay the same through the years, the centuries! Words that manage to capture these emotions can stay immortal.
EROTOCRITOS: The world of this work is the ideal Greek world of friendship, pure feelings, authentic Greek traditions. It is the world of the beauty of Athens and Crete which is "the throne of virtue and the river of wisdom."
The language of this work is authentic Greek and Cretan, a synthesis and conscious effort of the poet to express lofty human feelings and values with simplicity, directness and truth.
Erotokritos has been characterized as a masterpiece of the Greek language which unites the magic of myth and a deep understanding of everyday life. It expresses the "threefold ideal which is bravery, beauty and wisdom." A work rooted deeply in authentic Greek traditions, humanity, true feeling and pure love for life and freedom.
Poland
Polish poem about love.
Powiedz mi jak mnie kochasz.
- Powiem.
- Więc?
- Kocham cie w słońcu. I przy blasku świec.
Kocham cię w kapeluszu i w berecie.
W wielkim wietrze na szosie, i na koncercie.
W bzach i w brzozach, i w malinach, i w klonach.
I gdy śpisz. I gdy pracujesz skupiona.
I gdy jajko roztłukujesz ładnie -
nawet wtedy, gdy ci łyżka spadnie.
W taksówce. I w samochodzie. Bez wyjątku.
I na końcu ulicy. I na początku.
I gdy włosy grzebieniem rozdzielisz.
W niebezpieczeństwie. I na karuzeli.
W morzu. W górach. W kaloszach. I boso.
Dzisiaj. Wczoraj. I jutro. Dniem i nocą.
I wiosną, kiedy jaskółka przylata.
- A latem jak mnie kochasz?
- Jak treść lata.
- A jesienią, gdy chmurki i humorki?
- Nawet wtedy, gdy gubisz parasolki.
- A gdy zima posrebrzy ramy okien?
- Zimą kocham cię jak wesoły ogień.
Blisko przy twoim sercu. Koło niego.
A za oknami śnieg. Wrony na śniegu.
K. I. Gałczyński
This is a poem about love. The narrator tried to illustrate the amazing feeling of love. He decided not to write “I love you so much” as it would be too simple. Instead he wrote a beautiful poem. It’s very romantic. He said that he loves her in the sun , and in the light of the candles, in the hat and in the beret, when she sleeps and when she works. He loves her so much in every moments in their life. I will translate a few parts of this poem:
- Can you tell me how much you love me ?
- I can
- So ?
- I love you in the sun, and in the light of the candles
I love you in a hat, and in the beret.
I love you in a big wind on the road, and on the concert.
I love you in the elders, raspberries, clones.
I love you when you sleep, and when you work.
(...)
I love you in the taxi, and in the car. Without exceptions.
In the end of the road and at the beginning of it.
In the dangerous situations, and while being on a merry-go-round.
In the sea. In the mountains, in the rubber boots and barefoot.
Today. Yeasterday. Tommorow. In the day and at night. (...)
Patrycja J.
Portugal
Camões - Poem about love
Noémia, the portuguese teacher of our students Said:
"My first contribution to the theme it's a poem, and about love - what else? Poet? Camões – he leaved in the XVI century, but he knew and experimented all you can get from life and love!
In English:
Let Love devise new ways, new wiles
to kill me, and new forms of disdain;
he´ll take away no hope of mine,
since he can´t take what I don´t have.
Look at the hopes that hold me up!
See how precarious my defenses!
For I, not fearing reverses or changes,
am tossed by the sea, having lost my ship.
Though disappointment can´t exist
where there´s no hope, there Love has hidden
a bane that kills and remains unseen,
for he placed in my soul some time ago
I don´t know what, nor where it was born,
nor how it got there, nor why it aches.
In Portuguese:
Busque Amor novas artes, novo engenho,
para matar-me, e novas esquivanças;
que não pode tirar-me as esperanças,
que mal me tirará o que eu não tenho.
Olhai de que esperanças me mantenho!
Vede que perigosas seguranças!
Que não temo contrastes nem mudanças,
andando em bravo mar, perdido o lenho.
Mas, conquanto não pode haver desgosto
onde esperança falta, lá me esconde
Amor um mal, que mata e não se vê.
Que dias há que n´alma me tem posto
um não sei quê, que nasce não sei onde,
vem não sei como, e dói não sei porquê.
Edição bilingue, tradução de Richard Zenith."
Romania
Romanian poem about love - Mihai Eminescu
TRECUT-AU ANII……….
Trecut-au anii ca nori lungi pe şesuri
Şi niciodată n-or să vie iară
Căci nu mă-ncântă azi cum mă mişcară
Poveşti şi doine, ghicitori, eresuri
Ce fruntea-mi de copil o-nseninară,
Abia-nţelese, pline de-nţelesuri –
Cu-a tale tale umbre azi în van mă-mpresuri,
O, ceas al tainei, asfinţit de sară.
Să smulg un sunet din trecutul vieţii,
Să fac, o, suflet, ca din nou să tremuri
Cu mâna mea în van pe liră lunec,
Pierdut e totu-n zarea tinereţii
Şi mută-I gura dulce-a altor vremuri,
Iar timpul creşte-n urma mea….mă-ntunec!
THE YEARS HAVE PASSED……
The years have passed like clouds o’er hills and dales
Nor will they e’er return to us, in truth,
For I’m no longer charmed as in my youth
By superstitions, riddles, fairy tales,
Which brightened up my forehead as a child –
Half understood, with hidden sense inwrought;
Vain are your shadows into which I’m caught
Oh, magic hou’r, the evening twilight mild.
To wrest a sound from my life’s yesteryear
To thrill my soul one more time with my rhyme
Upon my lyre fingers vainly spin;
All’s lost within my youth’s now distant stir
And mute is now the honeyed mouth of yonder time
Time grows upon me...darkness sucks me in.
Translated by Andrei Bantaş, a student from Romania
Posts
