"goumas" poems
HESIONE*
Shut in her room with the scent of roses
pounded with wet stones
picked one by one from the riverbank and shining still,
Hesione struggled to remove the clasps
which she placed on a piece of cloth weaved by her grandma.
Days later she lay in bed wrapped in a sacred vestment.
Secret hopes torpedoed her body
and for a moment removed the clasps from the groin.
All worthless.
People were buried nearby.
The freshly-dug graves smelled of tamarisks.
She and the Thoans scanned the sea.
Nothing reminded one of who she was and why she mourned.
She forgot all about Hercules, thurifications and joys never to be.
Now all worthless.
POEM FORM THE COLLECTION SALUADER
BY MARIA PANOUTSOU TRANSLATED IN ENGLISH BY GIANNIS GOUMAS
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
REFUSAL
Throw the weak days away
for them to fight with vultures and win,
for all to be done quickly and brightly
like the most brilliant stars,
like the white nights,
when loves die and in the morning lovers split
with a pain between the eyes, between the ribs.
You and I shall fight together with pleasures and appeals,
transient and futile changes.
The love I forsook to be with you first and alone,
doesn’t wait for the moon to rise
and retaliate for my deed.
I must be going now, before you realize that
I don’t really exist,
that I’m only light
casting its cells for the last time
on a human face.
Βy Maria Panoutsou Translated from the Greek language
by Yannis Goumas
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
MEMORY
The wind passed through the trees’ foliage.
Sandy, remote corners of no-man’s land.
Pine trees’ truncated branches.
A glance stands against every lover,
and yet last night I heard our song
as the full moon rounded the sky
and ever since passion instils twilight and dawn on my windows.
All is damp, and the wicker chair a trap.
I sought to fall in with the lines on the horizon,
and monstrous conches tattooed your face
on my white arms.
A seagull won’t be saved by sea food,
but from your hand, as you feign throwing
breadcrumbs slowly on the whitecaps.
By Maria Panoutsou
Translated from Greek language by Yannis Goumas
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
I’ll tear up the paper and go back in history.
When I still hadn’t met you, in Columbus’ time.
For your sake I combed my hair, did the washing,
dried hankies and watered the hyacinth.
On the door hangs the cloth of expiation.
It’ll become dusty with time, and the junk dealer will charge for it as much as for a quick cup of coffee.
Maria Panoutsou
FROM GREEK LANGUAGED TRANSALTED BY Yannis Goumas
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
Maria Panoútsou
SALUADE
Translated from the Greek by Yannis Goumas
Moonlight.
A bird perched on a branch.
The man under the branch listens to a cricket.
My childhood friends have aged today.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC