Δευτέρα, 30 Απριλίου 2018

A Drinking Song

                                                             By William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

Κυριακή, 29 Απριλίου 2018


Μ'έρωτα την καρδιά
αν δε μεθύσεις,

Τον ήλιο δεν φιλήσεις τρυφερά
και τη νύχτα δε σφίξεις αγκαλιά,

Τη λάμψη των άστρων αν δεν φορέσεις
κι τ'όνειρά σου σελήνη δε φεγγίσει,

Τη ζωή σπατάλησες
χωρίς ποτέ να τη 

so strange

what a beautiful thing the oblivion.
we tend to forget even our
               So strange.
Just like your eyes
They speak different languages,
The one of the heart
and the other of ignorance
             So strange.
The feeling of distance
when somebody is standing right next to you
            So strange.

Πέμπτη, 29 Μαρτίου 2018

πικρές αλήθειες #10

κείνα τα μάτια μόνο θυμάμαι
που μέσα τους έβλεπα εμένα

κείνα τα ματια που πόνεσα,
θυμάμαι, και πονώ

κείνα τα μάτια που έχασα
και μέσα τους δεν βλέπω πια εμένα

μονάχα χαλάσματα
γκρεμισμένα όνειρα
καρδιές πια

Κυριακή, 18 Μαρτίου 2018

Σάββατο, 3 Μαρτίου 2018

πικρές αλήθειες #9

και τελικά τί έμεινε;
λίγα ξεραμένα άνθη στο βάζο
και μια πικρή γεύση στο στόμα.
υπήρχε κάτι αληθινό
 άξιο τη λησμονιά
να πολεμήσει;

Σάββατο, 17 Φεβρουαρίου 2018

unfulfilled wishes

It was a wonderful night , the kind of night ,dear reader, which is only possible when we are young.
                                                                                                                      Fyodor Dostoyevsky

                                    if only the nights could be whiter ,
                                       if only the sky would be starry,
                                                full of silver spots.

                                     if only people admired the sky 
                                            if only they imitated
                                                   it's colours 

                                                     riding a
                                                white coloured

Πέμπτη, 8 Φεβρουαρίου 2018

πικρές αλήθειες #8

Να πιστεύεις αυτό που τα μάτια δε λεν.

                                                     Κείνο που  μόνο ο χρόνος δείχνει.

Τρίτη, 5 Δεκεμβρίου 2017

Jorge Luis Borges - You learn

The poverty of yesterday was less squalid than the poverty we purchase with our industry today.
Fortunes were smaller then as well.
(The Elderly Lady)

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…

With every good-bye you learn