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- Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1992 10:48:20 -0500
- Reply-To: Dimitrios FILIPPOU <filippou@BINKLEY.CS.MCGILL.CA>
- Sender: The Hellenic Discussion List <HELLAS@AUVM.BITNET>
- From: Dimitrios FILIPPOU <filippou@BINKLEY.CS.MCGILL.CA>
- Subject: 2 poiimata tou L. Durrell
- Comments: To: hellas@brownvm.brown.edu
- Lines: 95
-
- Here are two poems written by Lawrence Durrell, a contemporary of
- George Seferis, Stratis Tsirkas, Henry Miller, and other Greek and
- non-Greek men of literature of the 1930s to 1960s.
-
- =====================================================================
-
- (1) GREEK CHURCH: ALEXANDRIA
-
- The evil and the good seem undistinguished,
- Indeed all half asleep; their coming was
- No eloquent proposition of natures
- Too dense for material ends, quartered in pain.
- But a propitiation by dreams of belief
- A relief from the changing ropes of thought.
-
- Piled high in Byzane like a treasure-ship
- The church heels over, sinking in sound
- And yellow lamplight while the arks and trolleys
- And blazing crockery of the orthodox God
- Make it a fearful pomp for peasants,
- A sorcery to the black-coated rational,
- To the town-girl an adventure, an adventure.
-
- Now however all hums and softly spins
- Like a great top, the many-headed black
- Majority merged in a single sea-shell.
-
- Idle thoughts press in, amazing one---
- How the theologians with beards of fire
- Divided us upon the boiling grid of thought,
- Or with dividers spun for us a fine
- Conniving cobweb---traps for the soul.
-
- Three sailors stand like brooms.
- The altar has opened line a honeycomb;
- An erect and flashing deacon like a despot howls.
- Surely we might ourselves exhale
- Our faults like rainbows on this incense?
-
- If souls did fire the old Greek barber
- Who cut my hair this morning would go flying,
- Not stand, a hopeless, window-bound and awkward
- Child at this sill of pomp,
- Moved by a hunger money could not sate,
- Smelling the miracle and softly sighing.
-
- --------------------------------------------------------------------
-
- (2) THE ANECDOTES
-
- IV
-
- At Rhodes
-
- If space curves how much the more thought,
- Returning after every conjugation
- To the young point of rest it started in?
-
- The fulness of being is not in refinement,
- By the delimitation of the object, but
- In roundness, the embosoming of the Real.
-
- The egg, the cone, the rhombus: orders of reality
- Which declaim coldly against the reason:
- We may surround and view every side,
-
- We may expound, break into fields of thought,
- But qualifying in this manner only spoil:
- On this derogatory wheel stands Man.
-
- Now who is greater than his greatest appetite?
- Who is weaker than the least of his fears?
- Who claims that he can match them perfectly,
- Apprehended without to unapprehended within?
-
- We Greeks were taught how to exhaust ideas,
- Melissa, but first begin with people. There we score!
- No Roman understood our sunny concupiscence,
- The fast republican colour of our values.
-
- Philosophy with us was not worked out.
- We used experience up. The rest precipitated.
- Soon we were still alive: but nothing else was left.
-
-
- From: Lawrence Durrell, "Collected Poems," E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc.,
- New York, U.S.A. (1960).
-
- =================================================================
-
- Re-typed and posted on the USENET by
-
- Dimitrios Filippou
-
- ps. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
-