η σακαράκα

Dust

I an individual,— an individual soul!
Nay, I am a population,— a population unthinkable for multitude,
even by groups of a thousand millions!
Generations of generations I am,
eons of eons!
Countless times the concourse now making me has been scattered,
and mixed with other scattering.
Of what concern, then,
the next disintegration?
Perhaps, after trillions of ages
of burning in different dynasties of suns,
the very best of me may come together again.

Lafcadio Hearn – From “Dust”, an article in The Atlantic Monthly, November, 1896)
στα ελληνικά ως [Είμαι εγώ ένας] εδώ

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Ο πιο μικρός

Ο πιο μικρός, ο πιο λιανός
της μάνας ο στερνός ο γιος
πήγε και βρήκε τα παιδιά
του άνοιξαν την αγκαλιά.

Ο πιο μικρός ο Κωσταντής
ώρες μετρούσε, μέρες τρεις
και τραγουδούσε δυνατά
με τα μεγάλα τα παιδιά.

Ο πιο μικρός, λιγνός, ξανθός
άξαφνα βρέθηκε εμπρός
πέρασε η σφαίρα την καρδιά
κι άδειασε η γη σαν αγκαλιά.

Κωστούλα Μητροπούλου

a.m.

It Couldn’t Be Done

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

– Edgar Albert Guest

Τα τζιτζίκια

Η Παναγιά το πέλαγο
κρατούσε στην ποδιά της
Τη Σίκινο την Αμοργό
και τ’ άλλα τα παιδιά της

Από την άκρη του καιρού
και πίσω απ’ τους χειμώνες
Άκουγα σφύριζε η μπουρού
κι έβγαιναν οι Γοργόνες

Κι εγώ μέσα στους αχινούς
στις γούβες στ’ αρμυρίκια
Σαν τους παλιούς θαλασσινούς
ρωτούσα τα τζιτζίκια:

– Ε σεις τζιτζίκια μου άγγελοι
γεια σας κι η ώρα η καλή
Ο βασιλιάς ο Ήλιος ζει;
κι όλ’ αποκρίνονται μαζί:

– Ζει ζει ζει ζει ζει ζει ζει ζει

– Oδυσσέας Eλύτης

[πηγή: youtube Μιχάλης Βιολάρης & χορωδία – Τα τζιτζίκια από το δίσκο “Το Θαλασσινό Τριφύλλι”]

My Delight and Thy Delight

MY delight and thy delight
Walking, like two angels white,
In the gardens of the night:

My desire and thy desire
Twining to a tongue of fire,
Leaping live, and laughing higher:

Thro’ the everlasting strife
In the mystery of life.

Love, from whom the world begun,
Hath the secret of the sun.

Love can tell, and love alone,
Whence the million stars were strewn,
Why each atom knows its own,
How, in spite of woe and death,
Gay is life, and sweet is breath:

This he taught us, this we knew,
Happy in his science true,
Hand in hand as we stood
‘Neath the shadows of the wood,
Heart to heart as we lay
In the dawning of the day.

– Robert Bridges

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