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| | The harp |  | | | Translated a Greek poem of mine | | |
Even if this harp's strings sound so loud and clear,
not at all its voice comes out for one to hear.
And the music flies above; it spreads amd lingers,
as the harpist plays on stage with her slim fingers.
Cords of rubber wishing not this pain to dim it,
of unspoken to reduce the unaproached limit.
Calling silently the dead to wake and rise
bursting into tears before your very eyes.
But beyond any isolation shield or curtain,
still, the melody invades your ears doubtfull, uncertain.
Still, of a true love of yours, it does remind,
whom you didn't ever dare to ask for and find.
There are people, years among this audience gathered,
in dismay watching frustrated and bothered.
Booked their seat by paying thousands of pounds
while the theatre stands unable to bring them sounds.
Day and night, night and day, the same old tone,
were there others who could hear or it's you alone?
Will there be others in the eternity to follow,
as the artist plays her harp lifeless and hollow?
P.Th.Toumassis
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 | | | | | | | | Στατιστικά στοιχεία | | | | | Σχόλια: 2
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| | Κάθε βράδυ σ' ονειρεύομαι, μέσα στο σκοτάδι σε παντρεύομαι. | | | |
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Sofitsa
03-06-2024 @ 11:30 | Λίγη δουλίτσα παραπάνω στο ρυθμό του και θα γίνει σούπερ!
| | ptoumassis
03-06-2024 @ 12:30 | Η κατανόηση του ρυθμού είναι λίγο δύσκολη, καθώς αφενός δεν κάνει χασμωδίες - πλην μιας-δυο άκρως απαραίτητων και, αφετέρου, για εμάς που τα αγγλικά είναι μια ξένη γλώσσα το ποίημα δεν ρέει όπως - ελπίζω - ρέει για τον αγγλόφωνο αναγνώστη. | |  |
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