N PROBABLE CONSTANTINO CAVAFIS A LOS 19. UN PROBABLE...
A poem of K.Cavafis recite by me Meres tou 1903...
clip del programa entrelibros sobre el poema de cavafis la ciudad segun...
Poema de K. CavafisVoz: Sean ConneryMúsica: Vangelis Itaca
Please check my new version of this video (the video response) as I am going to delete this one soon.Thank you. Constantine...
Poem of the Greek poet Konstantinos Kavafis. Ithaki -...
Poema del poeta griego Konstantinos Kavafis. Itaca -...
One of the most famous Greek poems, read by Elli Lambeti. Music background by Mark Isham. Ithaca by...
Montaje hecho por mi amigo Jesus Angulo sobre las fotos que hice en El vuelo de coco. Fotos de rodaje...
Extrait du spectacle Nina Dipla...
Cavafy's poem H POLIS read by ELLi LAMBETi - The CityYou said, GREEK POEM H...
Panayoti Karousos - Constantine Cavafis Panayoti Karousos...
Segunda comida anual con la clase de griego, esta vez a final de curso y en un griego griego xD el fallo es que Juanjo se acababa de ir y estabamos ya en el autobús xDD wijuuuuu Comida Griego 07...
Letra: K. KavafisMúsica: Patricio AnabalónSitio Web: www.patricioanabalon.clVideo: A Trip to the Ocean - The Maine Coast (offroad77)No hagas con prisas tu caminoUn profesor muy apreciado por mí suscribe una teoría, original no recuerdo de quién. Dice que lo esencial para hacer un camino rico y provechoso es diseñar un plan de vida y ajustarserigurosamente a él. La parte del diseño es la más delicada de todo, ya que una vez que uno lo ha diseñado cuidadosamente, todo lo que tiene que hacer es llevarlo a cabo. Esta vez no estoy de acuerdo con mi profesor. Para estarlo tendría que aceptar la existencia de una identidad inmutable del individuo, y mi experiencia me indica que tal cosa no existe. Pero sí creo que debiéramos vislumbrar, por lo menos, un norte, una imagen movilizadora como diría una amiga mía. Aquí mi profe concuerda conmigo. Lo sé porque él me presentó este poema, que a cualquiera que esté tratando de sacar adelante una tesis (y en realidad, a cualquiera que esté tratando de sacar adelante la vida) le tiene que hacer sentido.Fuente: http://leobustamante.blogspot.com/2007/05/no-hagas-con-prisas-tu-camino.htmlItaca. K. Kavafis (letra adaptada)Cuando salgas en el viaje hacia Itacadesea que el camino sea largo,lleno de aventuras, lleno de conocimiento.A los lestrigones y a los cíclopes,al irritado Poseidónno temas.Tales cosas en tu ruta nunca hallarássi elevado se mantiene tu pensamiento, si una excelente emoción tu espíritu y tu cuerpo embargan.A los lestrigones y a los cíclopesy al feroz Posidón no encontrarás.Desea que el camino sea largo,que sean muchas las mañanas estivales;en que con cuanta dicha, con cuanta alegríaentres a puertos nunca vistos.Detente en mercados fenicios,y adquiere las bellas mercancías:ámbares, ébanos, marfiles y corales,y perfumes voluptuosos de toda clase.Anda a muchas ciudades egipciasaprende, y aprende de los sabios.Siempre en tu pensamiento ten a Itaca:llegar allí, es tu destino.Pero no apures tu viaje en absoluto:mejor que muchos años dure,y viejo, ya ancles en la isla,rico con cuanto ganaste en el camino.Sin esperar que riqeuzas te dé Itaca:Itaca te dio el bello viaje.Sin ella, no hubieras salido al camino;otras cosas no tiene ya que darte.Y si pobre la encuentras, Itaca no te ha engañado.Sabio así cómo llegaste a ser, con experiencia tanta,y habrás comprendido qué es lo que significan las Itacas. Patricio...
a conceptual ad for the poetry of Constantine Cavafy Constantine Cavafy
Οσο διαβάζω ποιήματα του Καβάφη,κάθε φορά σκέπτομαι τι έγραψε αυτός ο Αλεξανδρινός ποιητής.Τι νοήματα μέσα στην απλότητά τους.Ο μεγαλύτερος Ελληνας ποιητής κατά τη γνώμη μου που ποιήματά του διαβάζονται σ όλες τις γλώσσες κι έχουν φτάσει στα πέρατα της οικουμένης. ΚΩΝΣΤΑΝΤ...
Cavafy Poems 74 - 77Here are four more of my translations of Cavafy's poems and no. 77 means we are halfway through the canon of 154 poems, although there are further non-canonical poems which I hope to translate also in due course. With regard to No. 77 General Galba became Emperor following Nero's suicide in 68 AD. Galba himself however retained the imperial purple (had he time to put it on) for a short interlude only.74. AT THE HARBOURForeigners brought him to our tiny harbour;name of Emis; twenty-eight years old.He'd left his country to learn the incense trade;took sick on the water; died when he disembarkedat this god-forsaken Syrian anchoragemiles from anywhere, a sullen coast,whispering of his home and aged parents.We placed him in a pauper's grave. No onehad heard of his people. We did not know from whichof the many scattered Greek townships he had come,travelling here to Syria to die.It's just as well: with us he is at peace,at home in our tiny harbour, his ungrieved parentsfondly imagining their son still lives.75. BODY, REMEMBERI do not alone recall,not only recall erotic encounters,body to body on a rumpled bed,actual physical concourse of the flesh.Precious to the remembering mindthose rarified conjunctions -eyes that stared in instant passion,voices breaking mid-sentence - leading to no seminal conclusion.Both recollections empowering,each fulfilling; consummationequally achieved by physical contactand Platonic junction, eyes and voice alone -glances as passionate kisses; the accentual carress.76. TOMB OF LANESMarcus, you will not find him here,your much loved Lanes. This tomb is emptyof the being you adored. The hours you spend here,the tears you shed, are wasted.You know where you will find him;where memory can feed and loss be calmed.You have his living portrait in your house.There his precious lineaments, preserved,retain the presence of the man you loved,enshrining, not entombing, his breathing spirit.Remember when you fetched from the consulatethat famed Kyrenian artistwho, when he viewed your Lanes then alive,insisted he be shown as Hyakinthos?(Thinking to broaden the appeal of his own art.)This Lanes refused and ordered the Kyreniannot to portray him as Hyakinthosbut as Lanes, son of Rametichos of Alexandria.77. NERO'S TERMA young Nero is come to Delphi:ascends the gorge in splendour,bathes in the sacred spring;consults the Oracle, of course. Erotic...
Project 2 - ENGL 215 The City
MAGNESIAHe's sagging;all the fire's gone out of him;he's feeling sick.He'll have to look after himselfand that's a fact.An unhurried, unworried life --that above all else is what he needs.So King Phillip tells himselfhearing the news of Antiochus' defeatat the hands of the Roman stateat the great big dust-up battle of Magnesia.Tonight he's playing dicewith a bunch of croniesdetermined to have fun.'Roses!' he shouts to the servants.'Roses for the tablelots of roses!'He's sagging on his couch,rings around his wine-soaked eyes;just a little petulant.'Antiochus defeated at Magnesia?His great army massacred?Well, that's what we're hearing,but you never know.People always exaggerate.Let's look on the bright side.Roses! More roses!I do so hope it's only exaggeration.'He's determined to party on,whatever the cost.No matter how exhaustedPhillip has decided to have fun.No matter that he's ill(this bad news makes him worse)his mind is still as sharp as ever it was(so he tells the dicers.)Yes, his mind is crisp and he recallshow the Syrians mournedhow they commiseratedat the rape of Macedonia,his Macedoniaby the Roman.He remembers it well,how much they mourned.It brings the tears to his eyes.Enough of that. He's hungry.'Come on there, let's eat!The tables are coveredwith roses -- wonderful!It smells like the mountains in summer.Send in the musicians!Send in the dancers!And let us have more lamps,more light, more light!' Constantine...
A Greek thing ( Ithaka (Part 1)
Dionysos & His Train is one of the more ironical poems. And Achilles' Horses more of the more emotional.19. DIONYSOS AND HIS TRAINThe sculptor Damon(best of the rest in the Peloponness)in priceless Parian chisels and smooths the lastof his great Dionysos and His Train,a gorgeous unrolled length of bass-relief.First comes the boy himself, the Fat Imbiberwobbling out from the marble,intoxicated glory and great god,hiccup on legs.Next troop Drink-to-the-Moment with Drink-Some-Morewhile Drunkenness itself sloshes the satyrs' winefrom an amphora where the ivies twineamong thick clustered grapes.A lacuna: sleepy Sweetwine on the ground.Follow the twin melodious singersIn-Tune and Lyric Song;while Lets-Have-Fun romps merrily alongwaving aloft a dangerously singeing flame.Last comes I'm-the-Only-Sober-Mandesperately trying not to laugh or spill.The sculptor Damon(best of the rest in the Peloponness)carved these.Carving, he dreamed of the generous feesabout to be bestowed on him and hisby the great beast of Syracuse, the king.He'll live in style and put aside the chisel;become a politician - what a thought!At last he will be treated as he ought,Something in the Senate and the Square!20. ACHILLES' HORSESAchilles' immortal horseswatched with compassion the deathof their master's devoted companion, Patroklos,brave virile and beautiful Patroklos.Warm tears flowed from their faithful eyesto bathe the fateful earth where huddledthe much-adored and lovely charioteer.Shaking their silken heads,tossing their unshorn manesmatted and soiled from gruelling war,with anguished feet they poundedthe compacted, resonant earth.They mourned their friend,they mourned the manly Patroklos,Patroklos the mortal, his spirit departedfrom his mangled breathless body,flown into the void of the hereafter, into the dark.Zeus saw the creatures' tears and grieved for them:'Unthinkingly at Peleus' weddingI gave you in gift, my unhappy horses.What business have you among these mortals,dying creatures of the moment, toys of fate?You are eternally youthfuleternally vulnerableto the sorrows that beset these fragile souls.'It was for this, for this,this sad decay and dyingthat they wept. Cavafy 19-20....
ΑΚΟΥΓΟΝΤΑΙ ΑΠΑΓΓΕΛΙΕΣ ΤΗς ΑΠ ΤΙΣ ΗΧΟΓΡΑΦΗΣΕΙΣ ΤΟΥ 1975ΤΟ ΠΡΩΤΟ ΣΚΑΛΙ(1899)Στο ποίημα «Το πρώτο σκαλί» του Καβάφη τα ποιητικά υποκείμενα είναι δύο και βρίσκονται σε διάλογο: ένας ποιητής νέος και πρωτόπειρος, και ένας έμπειρος. Ο νέος ποιητής παραπονιέται για τον μακρύ δρόμο που απλώνεται μπροστά του. Απογοητεύεται όταν βλέπει ότι είναι «πολύ υψηλή της Ποιήσεως η σκάλα» και φοβάται ότι ποτέ δεν θα καταφέρει ν' ανέβει πάνω απ' το πρώτο της σκαλί που βρίσκεται τώρα. Όμως ο έμπειρος ποιητής τον μαλώνει: Κι αυτό ακόμη το σκαλί το πρώτο πολύ από τον κοινό τον κόσμο απέχει. Ο όρος κοινός κόσμος; δε χρησιμοποιείται βέβαια με την ταξική έννοια του όρου για να ξεχωρίσει τον ποιητή από τον λαό «αλλά γενικά από τους καλλιτεχνικά, αισθητικά, ποιητικά αμέτοχους, τους άμουσους, είτε αυτοί ανήκουν στο λαό, είτε στην τάξη του ποιητή»[1]. Αυτό που τελικά έχει σημασία είναι ότι κατάφερε να πολιτογραφηθεί στην πόλη των ιδεών, πράγμα πολύ δύσκολο καθώς:Στην αγορά της βρίσκεις Νομοθέταςπου δεν γελά κανένας τυχοδιώκτης.Σύμφωνα με τον Δάλλα στο ποίημα αυτό ο Καβάφης εξιδανικεύει την καλλιτεχνική λειτουργία καθώς «θεωρεί εκ προοιμίου την αξία της πρωταρχική και την προσήλωσή του σ' αυτήν ολοκληρωτική και αμετάκλητη»[2].Εδώ που έφθασες, λίγο δεν είναι·τόσο που έκαμες, μεγάλη δόξα.Απόεδώ http://www.archive.gr/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=40ΤΡΩΕΣ(1905)-Διαβάστε πως οι Τρωες επηρέασαν το Μεσανατολικό....εδώ;)http://news.kathimerini.gr/4dcgi/_w_articles_world_284779_22/09/2007_242378ΤΑ ΕΠΙΚΙΝΔΥΝΑ(1911)ΑΛΕΞΑΝΔΡΙΝΟΙ ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΣ(1912)ΙΑΣΗ ΤΑΦΟΣ(1917)ΑΣ ΦΡΟΝΤΙΖΑΝ(1930) Η ΕΛΛΗ...
58. As They AwakeHang on to them, trembling poet,your dreams of erotic fulfilment,those hot and silky visions that haunt your imagination.Half bury them in incantation;embalm them in your verses;they live between your lines and rhythms.Retain them, excited poet,as they awake again and stirwhether at night or noon.59. The Statue of EndymionIt was a white chariotdrawn by four white muleswith jingling silver harnessthat brought us to Latmosfrom Miletos. Before thata proud imperial purple triremecarried me across the lapis seafrom Alexandria.I have come here to enactthe sacred secret ritesof Endymion, with sacrificeand pouring out of wine.There's the statue of the transfigured youth,the shapely form and vision i adore.Slaves bring baskets jammed with fragrant jasmine.Our cries of supplication here revivethe ancient cults and worship of the gods.60. GreyThe half-grey opal called to mindthe memory of beautiful grey eyesseen twenty years ago.Our brief affair lasted for a month.He went away to Smyrna for a job.After that we never met again.The sparkle of his grey eyes,if he's still alive, will now be dulled;his handsome features grown heavy with age.But memory, memory where he lives againin youthful beauty, brings back love;night retains his image resurrected.61. In a Frontier TownBeaten in a drunken brawllast night, our mate Remonwas carried home.In the heat we laid him on the bed,windows wide open,bright moonlight streaming inacross his half-naked body.We're all mongrels here,a rough racial mix:Syrians Greeks Armenians;so is our mate Remon.But lying there last nightenhanced by moonlighthe made me think of the athlete Charmides --Charmides whose beauty sent a shiverof loving-lust through Socrates,the starving lion who sights the slim gazelle. Cavafy: Poems 58-61
Audio 1=Cavafy Storm Records 'Opening Titles'Audio 2=Kavafis 'Sound from our Life's First Poetry...'Audio 3=Kavafis 'Charikleia's Death' (w/ENDING!!)Audio 4=Cavafy Storm Records 'Closing Titles Vangelis - Cavafy
143. MYRES: ALEXANDRIA 340ADThe golden haired youth with the smiling face was dead;dear Myres gone, forever gone; and I alone.Leaping like fire across our teeming citycame the burning news of Myres' deathto light its conflagration in my heart.The sensation seized me of falling into the seadown down down to the littered sandy bottomwhere faceless creatures crawled the darkling deep.Thanatos' shadow covered him. His blond hairand his brilliant green eyes glowed less and lesseach minute as the cold increased, icinghis soft warm limbs, freezing the arms of love.My friend was dead and my companions mourned;our company had lost its leading soul.Inwardly sobbing I ran to that dark housedark before to me, now doubly dark;home to his horrible Christian familyrevilers of our bright gods and ourselves,the black soil whence my friend so brilliantly flowered.I usually avoid the Christian quarter,known for an unbeliever, morally blank.A revenant, I haunted the entrance hall,subject to their disapproving glances;they crossed themselves as though I were unclean.I had seen that gesture many times,so full of pride, crammed with false assertion,debarring us and them from close communion.The door to the room where he lay was half ajar:rich rugs, gleaming gold and silver vesselspresumably part of their stranger ritual,celebrating death as never life.I wondered if his face were visibleand longed to hold him in a last embrace,to place a last kiss on that marble forehead(marble living, doubly marble now),merely to whisper 'farewell'. But I was barred;stood in the passage copiously weeping,an object of derision, being pagan.The golden haired youth with the smiling face was dead;dear Myres gone, forever gone; and I alone.I thought: our companions' outings meetings riotous partieswould all be hollow now that he was dead.For me his was the spirit of our revelslaughing drinking reciting poetry with perfect pitch and rhythm; none other like him.Without him all was mockery, in vain,my beautiful Myres gone, his light extinguished.The whole day was black, the sun was dark.Suspended through the hallway dressed in weeds,ancient spiders crawling their broken web,the old women discussed my absent friendwith all the fervour of the new converted:how at the end he called upon the Saviourgrasping that hideous crucifix, their charm.Four priests crossed the threshold also in blackcrying aloud to their outrageous God.The golden haired youth with the smiling face was dead;dear Myres gone, forever gone; and I alone.Clearly, we had all known he was Christian.There was no secret. The year before last yearhe came to us in friendship. Never held himself aloof;indulged especially in those games our lot delights in;threw his money around like no tomorrow.Couldn't give a toss about the cost.Fought passionately on our side in a fight.He rarely spoke about his own religion.When we suggested he accompany usto the Serapeum (a place the Christians shun),unamused he sullenly turned away.Another time - now it comes rushing backwith such a sense of sickness, void and black -when we were pouring wine to Lord Poseidonhe walked far off along the sounding shore,seeming to feel the need to stand apartA further instance (how they crowd upon me!)when we prayed for the protection of ApolloI heard him murmur softly Cavafy: Myres,...
Nelli Vavasi sings CavafyΝέλλη Βαβάση τραγουδά ΚαβάφηMusic: Yiannis PetritsisΜουσική: Γιάννης ΠετρίτσηςSupplicationThe sea took a sailor to its depths.His mother, unsuspecting, goes and lights a tall candle before the Virgin Mary for his speedy return and for fine weather .And always she turns her ear to the wind.But while she prays and implores,the icon listens, solemn and sad,knowing that the son she expects will no longer return.Constantine P. Cavafy (1898) Constantine...
Part 2 of 8 Kavafis 2 of 8
Part 8 of 8 Kavafis 8 of 8
'Kaisarion' is poem no. 73 in the Cavafy canon.Pronunciation, like spelling, is the very devil. People speaking the same language sometimes fail to understand one another. When ancient Greek and Latin meet English, chaos ensues. The Romans said not 'Hail Zizar!' as in the English version, but 'Ar-way Kizer' (Ave Caesar). The Germans got it right with their Kaiser. The son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra was called not 'Size-arion' (Caesarion) but Kaisarion.By August, 30BC, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra and Mark Antony were all dead and Kaisarion was the nominal ruler of Egypt. The invading Octavius Caesar, later called Augustus by the respectful Romans, who was a 'Caesar' because he had been adopted by Julius, coming into the presence of the boy pharaoh Kaisarion at Alexandria, is said to have spoken the words (referring to himself and the boy) Kaisarion: by...
Original video clip. Music on Cavafy's poem by Yannis Petritsis Cavafy: God...
Original video clip. Music on Cavafy's poem by Yannis Petritsis Cavafy: ITHACA...
Part 1 of 8 Kavafis 1 of 8
C.P.Cavafy's poem 'Ithaca', recited by Sir Sean Connery and with music specially composed by Vangelis. Scenes taken from Ron Fricke's film 'Baraka'.ITHACA [1910, 1911]As you set out for Ithacahope that your journey is a long one,full of adventure, full of discovery.Laistrygonians and Cyclops,angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:you'll never find things like that on your wayas long as you keep your thoughts raised high,as long as a rare sensasiontouches your spirit and your body.Laistrygonians and Cyclops,wild Poseidon-you won't encounter themunless you bring them along inside your soul,unless your soul sets them up in front of you.Hope that your journey is a long one.May there be many summer mornings when,with what pleasure, what joy,you come into harbors you're seeing for the first time;may you stop at Phoenician trading stationsto buy fine things,mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,sensual perfume of every kind-as many sensual perfumes as you can;and may you visit many Egyptian citiesto learn and learn again from those who know.Keep Ithaka always in your mind.Arriving there is what you're destined for.But don't hurry the journey at all.Better if it lasts for years,so that you're old by the time you reach the island,wealthy with all you've gained on the way,not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.Without her you would have not set out.She has nothing left to give you now.And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,you'll have understood by then what these Ithacas mean. Ithaca by...
Part 5 of 8 Kavafis 5 of 8
Interviewed by David Nachmias for the Greek National Television ERT the POET John Varveris. Yiannis Varveris was born in Athens in 1955 and studied law. He has published nine collections of poems and an anthology, Poems 1975-1996 (Kedros 2000). He has also published translations of Aristophanes, Menander, Moliere, Marivaux, Whitman, Cendrars, Prevert, Mrozek, Carrington, Ferre, Brassens and an anthology of verse about death. Since 1976 he has written theatre reviews for Tomes and Lexi magazines and Kathimerini newspaper. He has published these articles and other theoretical texts on the theatre in four volumes. Translations of his poems into English, French, German, Italian, Spanish and Romanian have appeared in anthologies. His translations of ancient and modern comedies have been performed at Epidaurus and other theaters, In 2001 he won the Cavafy prize and in 2002 he won Diavazo magazine's poetry prize for his collection In Foreign Parts. He is a member of the Hellenic Society of Authors. Yiannis Varveris's poems take the solitude of the body to its existential limits Καλλιτεχνικός σύμβουλος Αλέξης Κώστας Alexis Kostas. Υπεύθυνη εκπομπής: Δήμητρα Γκουντούνα Κώστας Μουρσελάς Mourselas Αντώνης Φωστιέρης Fostieris Γιώργος Μαρκόπουλος Markopoulos Κώστας Καστανάς Kastanas Γιώργος Τσαγκάρης Tsaggaris Tsagkaris & Γιώργος Μανιώτης Maniotis Maniwtis Manioths. ΓΙΑΝΝΗΣ...
My interpretation of the poem The City. The City by C.P....

Page: 1 of 4

Next Page