{"id":7241,"date":"2020-09-28T14:40:39","date_gmt":"2020-09-28T14:40:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/?page_id=7241"},"modified":"2020-11-19T17:21:11","modified_gmt":"2020-11-19T17:21:11","slug":"%cf%84%ce%bf%cf%80%ce%af%ce%b1-%ce%b5%cf%86%ce%b7%ce%b2%ce%b5%ce%af%ce%b1%cf%82-%cf%80%ce%bf%ce%b9%ce%ae%ce%bc%ce%b1%cf%84%ce%b1-%cf%84%ce%bf%cf%85-quartier-latin","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/%cf%84%ce%bf%cf%80%ce%af%ce%b1-%ce%b5%cf%86%ce%b7%ce%b2%ce%b5%ce%af%ce%b1%cf%82-%cf%80%ce%bf%ce%b9%ce%ae%ce%bc%ce%b1%cf%84%ce%b1-%cf%84%ce%bf%cf%85-quartier-latin\/","title":{"rendered":"Landscapes of Adolescence, Poems in the Latin Quarter"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u038c\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5 \u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7, \u03ad\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c8\u03b1:<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

I walk the Saint Michel boulevard, along the picturesque Seine, on the Rue des Feuillantines. The rainy weather in Paris gives me a new sense of poetry. And I am already planning my new poetic collection Landscapes of Adolescence. Rue des Feuillantines, where my dormitory was located at the magical Quartier Latin, had all the flimsy charm of Paris, healing my wounds. In Paris, I experience different emotions. And I find these new experiences exciting. The fact that from the desolate rocks of my island, I found myself in the heart of Paris, with the theaters and such friendly faces around me, makes my soul unfold, gazing at new horizons. My poetry reaches another dimension. Theatrical. And all my theatrical plays \"go through\" the Landscapes of Adolescence. They become one with me. One with my poetry.<\/p>\n

Rue des Feuillantines<\/em><\/h4>\n

Unreal City<\/em>
\nUnder the brown fog of a winter dawn<\/em>
\nT. S. Eliot<\/em><\/p>\n

Always the rocks of Myrina
\nWith their grey vesper bone
\nThe rocks the beach and the face
\nLost and gained
\nThat face with the winds in its eyes<\/p>\n

The time that carries in his back our bones
\nour voice and gaze
\nBroken sound of rust
\nThe words that once enchanted us
\nLost and gained
\nBehind the ephemeral leaves
\nAnd the hands that refuse to be untied
\n\u039d\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b3\u03af\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c0\u03af\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03ae\u03c2
\nThe broken sound that weeps in memory.<\/p>\n

Boulevards of the world that you journey our wasteland
\nin your delusional hospitality
\nLights and voices of people, names in hurry
\nFingers that shine uncertainly the Solar noon<\/p>\n

Rue des Feuillantines. Hotel de Paris.
\n\"A sunny room, please...\"<\/p>\n

The chestnut trees strip silently in their melancholy
\nAnd the earth drinks softly the rotten warm leaves
\nGrey cindery mouth
\nThat consumes time with our decay
\nAnd carries our memory inside the hardened roots
\nLeaves from another time will cover
\nOur nakedness.<\/p>\n

\"The room is a bit dark... As
\nyou see, it rains... If you want...\"<\/p>\n

Sound of a distant bell tender and bitter
\nLike our first poetry
\nMother on the doorstep
\nWhere once was the honeysuckle and a swallow's nest
\nViolet nights that joined on her lips
\nOur youthful names
\n\"Marina... Sephes... Alexis...\" The garden has fallen asleep
\nAnd the birds and the souls of the flowers have gone quiet
\n\"Tomorrow again... Tomorrow it's hide and seek and marbles...\"<\/p>\n

My fingers bleed. The earth. The memory.
\nTime that has dressed with our skin
\nAnd we have nothing to touch with
\nMother's face
\nAnd we don't know how to rescue her voice
\n\"Tomorrow again... Tomorrow... Marina, Sephes, tomorrow...\"<\/p>\n

\"Yes, I can see... The weather here is usually rainy...\"
\n\"Oh, yes, yes... usually!\"<\/p>\n

Boulevards of the world that cross
\nThe gaze and the human wilderness
\nAnd you write under your grey skin
\nTheir sorrow and their nostalgia
\nBridges of time that you join forgotten hands
\nIn a place that is not tomorrow
\nThat was not yesterday
\nIn a place of your own
\nUnder your grey ephemeral skin
\nWhere our singular conscience lies.<\/p>\n

Do you remember?
\nThe window has closed forever
\nThat window that hid your face
\nI hadn't understood
\nThe window has closed beyond the rain and time<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Talk, say something<\/em>
\nSay words of love or remorse<\/em>
\nThe night surrounds us<\/em>
\nIt rises slowly on our lips<\/em>
\nOn our bones<\/em>
\nAnd the door creaks from the wind and your silence Are you listening?<\/em>
\n\u0388\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c1\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03ac\u03c7\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03ae\u03c0\u03bf  \u039a\u03b9 \u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03af\u03c2<\/em>
\nThe noise stopped in the highway<\/em>
\nA cricket and ourselves<\/em>
\nRight in the heart of the world!<\/em>
\nUs two and the heart of the world.<\/em>
\n\"Your body creaks like hot sand\" you told me.<\/em>
\n\"Your body is the frontier of things\" you told me.<\/em>
\nNow as I look on your face<\/em>
\n\u0395\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b7\u03bd \u03c5\u03c0\u03ae\u03c1\u03be\u03b1  \u03a3\u03b1\u03bd \u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b7\u03bd \u03c5\u03c0\u03ae\u03c1\u03be\u03b5\u03c2<\/em>
\nThe loneliness between us<\/em>
\nBetween the border of the heart and of things<\/em>
\nThe absence<\/em>
\nAnd your clothes full of earth<\/em>
\nEarth that smells of your body's sweat<\/em><\/p>\n

Talk Talk Say something then<\/em>
\nNothing nothing more rightfully ours<\/em>
\nThan everything we lost forever<\/em>.<\/p>\n

This poetry was published in 1969, with the memories of Paris<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

Connection to the book<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u038c\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5 \u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7, \u03ad\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c8\u03b1: \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ce \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf boulevard Saint Michel, \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc \u03a3\u03b7\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1, \u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 Rue des Feuillantines. \u039f \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03a0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03cd \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03cd\u03c1\u03b3\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b1\u03af\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2. \u039a\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b9\u03cc\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03bd\u03ad\u03b1 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03ae \u03c3\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03ae \u03a4\u03bf\u03c0\u03af\u03b1 \u0395\u03c6\u03b7\u03b2\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2. \u0397 Rue des Feuillantines, \u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ae\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf \u03c6\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc \u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c7\u03b5\u03af\u03bf \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b1\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc Quartier Latin, \u03b5\u03af\u03c7\u03b5 \u03cc\u03bb\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b7 \u03c3\u03b1\u03b8\u03c1\u03ae […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","spay_email":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7241"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7241"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7241\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7579,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7241\/revisions\/7579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7241"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}