Scroll Top

Η ποίηση είναι κώδικας ζωής, είναι οι σκέψεις που αναπνέουν και οι λέξεις που πυρπολούν τον βίο.

“Τι θα ήταν η ζωή χωρίς την ποίηση;
Τι θα ήταν η ποίηση χωρίς τις τρανές της γλώσσας οδοιπορίες;”
Το Culture Book συνομιλεί μέσω του Patras Word Poetry Festival με ποιητές και ποιήτριες που δημιουργούν ανά τον κόσμο. Η παρουσίαση, η καταγραφή, η μελέτη και αυτών των ποιητών και ποιητριών είναι από εκείνα που οφείλουμε στην τέχνη της ποιήσεως.
Η καταγραφή χωρίς μεγέθυνση των αληθινών διαστάσεων του μεγαλείου της ζωής, που είμαστε έτοιμοι να την καταστρέψουμε, μέσα και από τις κειμενικές αξίες των σύγχρονων ποιητών και ποιητριών, διαμορφώνει και την καθημερινότητα της σύγχρονης λογοτεχνίας.
 

 EROS IN TANATOS

Ob paritvenem klicu
mladim jelenom
iz čela rastejo rokovja,
rokovja z razkrečenimi,
togimi, grabežljivimi prsti.
Ob paritvenem klicu
se mladi jeleni spoprimejo,
da rokovje seže v rokovje,
da se prsti oklenejo prstov.
Ob paritvenem klicu
pride do rokoborb,
dokler ne popusti najšibkejši
ali se mu odlomi roka in pade
v prazno kakor zavrnjeno premirje.
Ob paritvenem klicu
zmaga najrazkošnejše rokovje,
z dolgimi prsti, ki z lahkoto
gredo skozi samičino dlako.
Ob paritvenem klicu
zmaga največje rokovje,
takšno, ki lahko scela vzame
samico v svoje dlani.
Ob paritvenem klicu
še jelenje lobanje
na zidovih s svojimi koščenimi rokami
grabijo za mesenostjo.

  

EROS AND THANATOS

As mating calls sound,
young deer
sprout handtlers from their foreheads,
handtlers with splayed,
stiff, and greedy fingers.
As mating calls sound,
young deer challenge each other,
handtlers shaking handtlers,
fingers grasping fingers.
As mating calls sound,
brawls break out
until the weaker fighter yields,
or loses a hand, dropping it
aside like a peace offering rebuffed.
As mating calls sound,
the most extravagant handtlers win,
handtlers with long fingers that easily
pass through the female’s coat.
As mating calls sound,
the biggest handtlers win,
those best able to cradle
the female in their palms.
As mating calls sound,
even deer skulls
hung on walls grasp at
luscious flesh with their bony hands.

(translated by Jernej Županič)

SEGANJE

Razgališ se, odvržeš oblačila in obutev ter stopiš v reko.
Moraš se sleči, moraš odvreči obleko, moraš sezuti čevlje,
ker veš, kako težka so lahko oblačila, ko se navzamejo vlage,
kakšno breme so lahko čevlji, če vanje vstopi voda.
Razgališ se in zabredeš v reko. Bos hodiš po pesku in produ,
čutiš, kako ga zrno za zrnom, kamen za kamnom odnaša izpod tvojih stopal,
čutiš, da ne teče samo reka, ampak tudi njeno dno.
Brodiš po reki in s svojimi rokami segaš med skale,
v vdolbine, pod potopljena drevesa in njihove korenine,
segaš za ribami, za njihovim luskastimi telesi, vendar veš,
da je lahko luskasto telo, ki ga zatipaš, tudi kačje.
Dobro se zavedaš tega, to jemlješ v zakup.
Sicer pa si tako ali tako že odporen na kačji strup,
odporen zaradi številnih ugrizov.
Tvoje roke so prepredene z ugrizi,
tvoje roke so leglo ugrizov.
Mogoče pa ne hodiš v reko zaradi rib,
da bi jih poiskal v njihovih skrivališčih,
da bi začutil njihovo surovo moč,
ko jih držiš z obema rokama za rep
in te uspejo celo vleči proti toku,
dokler jih ne ukrotiš s svojimi golimi rokami.
Mogoče hodiš v reko zaradi kač,
zaradi njihovih ugrizov,
ki prežijo med skalami,
v vdolbinah, pod potopljenimi drevesi
in njihovimi koreninami.
Tvoje roke so prepredene z ugrizi,
tvoje roke so leglo ugrizov.
Tvoje roke.

REACHING

You bare yourself, discarding your clothes and shoes, and wade into the river.
You have to undress, to disrobe and take off your shoes,
because you know how heavy clothing gets when soaked,
what a burden shoes become when infiltrated by water.
You bare yourself and wade into the river. Walking barefoot over sand and pebbles,
you feel them being carried away from under your feet, grain by grain, stone by stone,
feel that it’s not just the river that’s flowing, but also its bed.
You wade in the river, reaching between rocks with your hands,
reaching into crevices, under sunken trees and their roots,
reaching for fish, their scaly bodies, knowing however,
that any scaly body that you touch could also be a snake.
You’re well aware of this, resigned to what might happen.
In any case, you are by now immune to venom,
immune thanks to the many bites you’ve already received.
Your arms are full of bites,
your arms a nest of bites.
But perhaps you’re not wading into the river for the sake of fish,
not to search for them in their hiding places,
feel their brute force
as you hold them by the tails with both hands,
and they drag you on, even against the current,
until you manage to subdue them with your bare hands.
Perhaps you’re wading into the river for the snakes,
for their bites
that lurk between the rocks,
in crevices, under the sunken trees
and their roots.
Your arms are full of bites,
your arms a nest of bites.
Your arms.

(translated by Jernej Županič)

Curriculum Vitae Denis Scofic