Author: tzelikazoumpouli

Μέσα σε ένα οπτικό φάσμα βρήκα

Τη διαστασιακη μου φύση

Εδώ κόκκινη φλόγα

Εκεί μπλε ποταμός

Εδώ κίτρινη σκόνη

Εδώ γκρι ουρανός

Εδώ φωτιά,

Εκεί αέρας,

Εδώ νερό

Εκεί χώμα

Σα να πρέπει να οπτικοποιηθουν τα στοιχεία

για να συνειδητοποιήσουν

Την εφημερότητα τους

Σαν το οπτικό φάσμα να μας θυμίζει το υπεροπτικό φάσμα: αυτό που νομίζουμε μεγαλεπήβολα ότι βλέπουμε

ενώ

Υπάρχει ένα μυστικό απέραντο φάσμα που δεν αντιλαμβανόμαστε

Θα ευχηθώ το οπτικό φάσμα να γίνει αντιληπτό φάσμα

Με μια έννοια άλλης αντίληψης που ξαφνικά στιγμιαία θα λάμψει

Και θα φτάσει αυτό για τη γνώση ότι

Υπάρχεις

κάπου ακόμα

I thought it would be enraged sea by the intrusion of human bodies

Rainbow leaves having had enough of the uniformity of the freeness

Or even dry sand craving for some watery illusion 

I thought it would be the light sinking in,

allowing for the shadow to take over

The coldness prevailing

until the core coming to terms with its nakedness.

I thought it was not about Ikaros merely

changing wings,

but its concept of self. 

I can hear him say through the storm:

“Am I the barefoot child tripping on half a slice of watermelon?

Or Am i the amputated child with wounds and burns and no tears left to cry?”

“Am I the woman after hours of window shopping eventually buying her favourite ring from the shop? 

Or am I the woman aimlessly wandering mourning her multiple losses?”

“Am I the adventurous traveller who have up his accountancy job for finding his truth in  Himalaya?

Or am I the hunger-struck dad who secretly prays for the whole family to die instead of all this suffering?”

“Am I the approacher of the Sun? 

Or am I the hiding shadow in the dark as far from the light as possible?”

“Perhaps I am all”, he finally concludes. 

“Neither and everything at the same time. “

“Also..just to say, you got my name wrong”, he finally says.

“I am not Ikaros 

But Kairos.”

Απο εδώ ως τον ουρανό

Μονο υποθέσεις να αμφισβητείς

Πότε υπερβάσεις

Γιατί οι υποθέσεις διαψεύδονται εύκολα

Ενώ οι υπερβάσεις βρίσκονται

στο όριο αλήθειας και υπερθεσης

Οι μεν βοηθούν με το ζωή

Οι άλλες βοηθούν με τον θάνατο

Έτσι φαντάζομαι πρέπει να είναι και αυτός.

Μια υπέρβαση που κάνουμε ενώ σβήνει το φως

Look the pinkness expanding, the thick dense flowers taking over the fences,

The pedals abundantly colouring the branches, and streets.

You could easily get lost in the velvety fallacy.

If only we could allow our consciousness to expand like this

It would only take one rosey blanket of blissed unawareness

To transmit our transient experience into the longed for oneness.

“Yes but it is a fallacy”

suggests the shameless mistletoe still in full view.

“When the wind takes away all the pedals what remains?

Either ripe or unprepared fruit?”

“ Ha. I don’t think I have tasted a sweet enough fruit in all my life

and yet I would be willing to make my mind a blanket for the possibility of the fruit underneath having the sweetness i long for”

she said.

Love, there are flowers hanging in the vine

Young man,

You have reached by abode as the companion of immortal charioteers

So high you cannot see

And of the mares which carry you. You are welcome

Now my mind must go on holiday

It was no ill fate that prompted you to travel this way,

Torn from its hook, a broken valentine

Which is indeed far from mortal men, beyond their beaten paths;

I see the smoke from a revolver

No, it was Right and Justice. You must learn everything-

Will I get hit? I hardly care

Both the steady heart of well-rounded truth,

And the beliefs of mortals, in which there is no true trust.

When I am bombed, I stretch like bubblegum

Still, you shall learn them too, and come to see how beliefs

Must exist in an acceptable form, all-pervasive as they altogether are

And look too long straight at the morning sun

The point from which I start

Is common; for there shall I return again

Love, there are flowers along the avenue

Come then, I will tell you -and do you for your part listen to my tale

And pass it on -of those ways of seeking which alone can be thought of.

All things perfectly in place

There is the way that it is and it cannot not be:

I build a shrine, I set a monument

This is the path of Trust, for Truth attends it.

Because you’re fire

Then there is the way that it is not and that it must not be:

This, as I show you, is an altogether misguided route.

For you may not know what-is-not -there is no end to it-

Nor may you tell of it.

Because you are a fire escape

(Mixing lyrics of song “Bombed” by Mark Lanegan, 2004 and p. 57-58 of The first Philosophers, The Presocratics and the Sophists by Robin Waterfield, from the chapter on Parmenides)