My translation (to english) of a poem by Constantine Cavafy :)

[Kyriakos]

Constantin Cavafy.
I suppose Peter Sellers would be the obvious choice to play him, if he wasn't dead now or if Cavafy was more known at the time.





"The Greek language was forgotten by the Poseidonians as they mingled for so many centuries

with Tyrrhenians, and Latins, and other foreigners. The only thing they had left from the forefathers was a Greek festival, with beautiful rites, lyres and flutes, games and wreaths. And they were of the habit, each time the festival was reaching an end, to narrate their old customs, and to speak once again the Greek names, those names that by now only few could understand. And their festival would always end with melancholy. For they recalled that they too had been Greeks -- They came to Italy as colonists; and how had they fallen now, how did they become this, living and speaking barbarically, disastrously displaced from Hellenism."




*Poseidonia was the old, Greek name, replaced with "Paestum" when the city was incorporated into non-Greek dominions.

[Darkan]

Very moving. Quite the image.

[Kyriakos]

Cavafy is by far the best poet in the period of the new existence of Greece (after the revolution in the early 19th century) ^^

He deserves his rise to (some) global prominence too; afaik he is by now somewhat known internationally. He lived in Alexandria, and died in 1933.
A majority of his poems have a historical setting. In this case, the poem is inspired by a relative passage by Atheneos, an ancient (roman era) writer.

Another poem of his, Ithaca, narrated by Sean Connery:

[Admiral Van Tromp]

Thank you for the the translation, and for sharing Ithaca as well.

I enjoyed these a lot!

[Kyriakos]

Glad you liked them ^^

[Darkan]

Yes, I also searched for him and listened to Ithaca, though it was a bit strange to hear a Scottish accent. Still, takes nothing from the value. If there's more, please share.

[Kyriakos]

You can find many english translations of his poems -- i just posted my own ^^

Hm, here is another of my own, though i did this years ago: (checking... i did this back in 2006!)

The Pawn

Many times, while watching others playing chess
my eye is following a pawn
which slowly finds the way
to reach the final square.

It reaches it with such willingness
that one thinks that there will be the start of
its pleasures, and its compensations.

It finds much misfortune while still on its way there.
Unmounted troops throw their blades to its side
the castles hit it with their broad lines
inside of their two squares fast riders
seek to make it get stuck, cunningly
and with the threat behind the corner,
and now and then also it finds on its path
another pawn, sent from the barracks of the enemy.

But it survives all those dangers
and it reaches the final square.

How triumphantly it reaches there,
in the horrible final square
how willingly does it touch its death!

Because here the Pawn will die
and all of its hardships were just for that.
For the queen, which shall save us,
to resurrect her from the grave
it came to fall to the hades of the chessboard.

by
Constantine Cavafy

(edit, to reflect original use of capitals in the greek poem)

[Darkan]

Intereasting view. Strive for death, but in doing so, save the others. Self-sacrifice. Interestingly as well, we use the word "pawn" to describe somebody who is controlled or who is manipulated by another, yet this poem suggests it is quite the opposite. The "pawn" is probably more aware of its role and importance and we can go even further and say that the "pawn" understands more about its life (and the game of life) than the others. While they fight for an advantage, the lowly pawn is above it all and sacrifices itself for the greater good.

Exuse my rant.

[Kyriakos]

^Moreover, Cavafy only uses a capital first letter for the Pawn, not the other pieces - not even the queen ^^

Imo the poem may be also about how one can find himself attacked by others, just because the others are so out to play their game. Even "some other pawn".

Originally (it was 2006, that's my excuse ) i didn't follow the capital format of the greek poem, but now went back and corrected it. So the version you read didn't have it, sorry

[Kyriakos]

My new translation, of another poem by Kavafy. The original is titled "The polis".

"The city

You said: “I’ll go to some other land, I’ll go to some other sea.
Some other city will be found, better than this one.
Every attempt of mine is a predestined condemnation.
And my heart is – like a dead person’s – buried.
How much longer will my mind remain in this state of withering.
Regardless of where I turn my eye, everywhere I look
I see here only black ruins of my life,
the life of so many years which I spent and destroyed and corrupted."

You won’t find any new places, nor any other seas.
The city will be following after you. You will be revisiting the same roads, time and again. And you will be getting older in the very same neighborhoods
and your color will turn to white inside these very same houses.
In the end you’ll always be arriving back to this city. For other places – abandon your hope – there is no ship for you, and there is no way.
In the manner that you annihilated your life
here in this tiny corner, you have ruined it all over the Earth.
Η πόλις

Ειπες:"Θα παγω σ'αλλη γη, θα παγω σ'αλλη θαλασσα.
Μια πολις αλλη θα βρεθει καλλιτερη απο αυτη.
Καθε προσπαθεια μου μια καταδικη ειναι γραφτη.
Κ'ειν'η καρδια μου-σα νεκρος-θαμενη.
Ο νους μου ως ποτε μες στον μαρασμον αυτον θα μεινει.
Οπου το ματι μου γυρισω, οπου κι αν δω
ερειπια μαυρα της ζωης μου βλεπω εδω,
που τοσα χρονια περασα και ρημαξα και χαλασα#.
Καινουργιους τοπους δεν θα βρεις, δε θαβρεις αλλες θαλασσες.
Η πολις θα σε ακολουθει. Στους δρομους θα γυρνας
τους ιδιους. Και στες γειτονιες τες ιδιες θα γερνας
και μες στα ιδια σπιτια αυτα θ'ασπριζεις.
Παντα στην πολι αυτη θα φθανεις. Για τα αλλου-μη ελπιζεις-
δεν εχει πλοιο για σε, δεν εχει οδο.
Ετσι που τη ζωη σου ρημαξες εδω
στην κωχη τουτη τη μικρη, σ'ολην την γη την χαλασες. "

[Kyriakos]

And another one

Candles

The days of the future stand in front of us
like a series of small candles, lit -
golden, warm, and lively candles.

The days of the past remain behind,
a sad series of extinguished candles.
Those nearer to us still with smoke rising from them,
cold candles, melted, and curved.

I don’t want to see them, I am saddened by their shape,
and saddened to recall the light they first had.
I look in front of me, at my lit candles.

I don’t want to turn the other way, so that I won’t see and be shocked by
how fast the dark line extends further,
how fast the extinguished candles increase their number.




Κερια

Του μελλοντος η μερες στεκοντ'εμπροστα μας
σα μια σειρα κερακια αναμενα-
χρυσα, ζεστα, και ζωηρα κερακια.

Οι περασμενες μερες πισω μενουν,
μια θλιβερη γραμμη κεριων σβυσμενων.
Τα πιο κοντα βγαζουν καπνον ακομη,
κρυα κερια, λυωμενα, και κυρτα.

Δεν θελω να τα βλεπω, με λυπει η μορφη των,
και με λυπει το πρωτο φως των να θυμουμαι.
Εμπρος κυτταζω τ'αναμμενα μου κερια.

Δεν θελω να γυρισω να μη διω και φριξω
τι γρηγορα που η σκοτεινη γραμμη μακραινει,
τι γρηγορα που τα σβηστα κερια πληθαινουν.


Feedback is welcome.

[Darkan]

Very nice, both of them!

[Kyriakos]

Thanks

And another one:

Trojans






These attempts of ours, of those who are struck by disaster,


these attempts of ours are like those of the Trojans.


We achieve a little, here and there; we rise a little;


and immediately start possessing courage and good hopes.






And yet always something comes about and stops us.


Achilles comes to the moat in front of us


and terrifies us with his screams.










These attempts of ours are like those of the Trojans.


We think that through decision and boldness


we will alter the heavy reproaches of fate,


and thus we stand outside so as to fight.






But when the crucial moment arrives,


our boldness and decisiveness disappear;


our soul is convulsed, paralyzes;


and we run around the walls


seeking to save ourselves by fleeing.






But our fall is certain. Up


on the walls, the mourning already commenced.


They cry due to remembering our days, and because of our feelings.


Bitterly do Priam and Hecuba cry for us.


(my translation, original is by Cavafy )

[Admiral Van Tromp]

Thank you for the new translations. I find the intersection of the themes with ancient Greek images and myth very enjoyable.

[Kyriakos]

Thank you, glad you liked the translations

[Alwyn]

Nicely done!

[Kyriakos]

Thanks

Thank you for the new translations. I find the intersection of the themes with ancient Greek images and myth very enjoyable.

There is a rumour (not sure if true) that at some time Cavafy met with Pessoa. They have a few similarities, particularly being so depressed, and also highly notable poets.

[Owlparrot3]

You have handled the translation work well my friend ,there is no point where i felt that it was raw(Like ,literal) .You have convyed the true meaning of the poem excellently .
It is people like you who bring these works to a wider audience by translating them to English(Globally understood language) ,such people are as great as the original authors .

Thanks for writing this .I would rep you if i could .

[Kyriakos]

No need, you already gave more crucial rep by the kind comment Thanks.

[Kyriakos]

A new translation, Thermopylae

Thermopylae


Glory be to those who in their lives
tend to and protect Thermopylae.
Never to take leave from their duty;
just and forward in all of their actions,
but also with sadness and compassion;
brave while they are wealthy, and when
they are poor also brave to some smaller degree,
again coming to aid as much as they can;
always speaking the truth,
but without hatred for those who lie.


And even more glory to them is due
when they predict (and many of them do predict)
that Ephialtes will in the end appear,
and the Medes will finally pass.


Θερμοπύλες


Τιμή σ’ εκείνους όπου στην ζωή των
ώρισαν και φυλάγουν Θερμοπύλες.
Ποτέ από το χρέος μη κινούντες·
δίκαιοι κ’ ίσιοι σ’ όλες των τες πράξεις,
αλλά με λύπη κιόλας κ’ ευσπλαχνία·
γενναίοι οσάκις είναι πλούσιοι, κι όταν
είναι πτωχοί, πάλ’ εις μικρόν γενναίοι,
πάλι συντρέχοντες όσο μπορούνε·
πάντοτε την αλήθεια ομιλούντες,
πλην χωρίς μίσος για τους ψευδομένους.

Και περισσότερη τιμή τούς πρέπει
όταν προβλέπουν (και πολλοί προβλέπουν)
πως ο Εφιάλτης θα φανεί στο τέλος,
κ’ οι Μήδοι επί τέλους θα διαβούνε.

Btw, if there are any grammatical errors with the poems, pls tell, because maybe at some point i might send them to some publisher