#maria polydouri

[elafriacomedi]

Μὲ γνώρισες νὰ γέρνω στὴν ἀγάπη σου

σὰν πεταλούδα στὸ ἄλικο λουλούδι

καὶ νὰ σκορπίζω ὅσο ἡ καρδιά μου ἐδύνοταν

μεθυστικὸ τὸ ἐρωτικὸ τραγούδι.

Γνώρισες τῆς χαρᾶς μου τὸ ἄγριο ξέσπασμα

στὸν ἀνοιξιάτικον ἀγρὸ ποὺ εὐώδα

λαχτάρας κύμα ἐγίνονταν ἡ ἀγκάλη μου

τὰ νειάτα σου νὰ σφίγγη καὶ τὰ ρόδα.

Ἐσὺ ποτὲ κρυφὰ δὲν ἀκολούθησες

τὸ βῆμα μου σὰν φεύγω ἀπὸ κοντά σου

κι᾿ ὅμως καὶ μὲ τὴ σκέψη σου μοῦ δόθηκες

καὶ μὲ τὴ φλόγα ἀκόμα τοῦ ἔρωτά σου.

Μὰ ποιὸς τὸ ξέρει ἄν, μία στιγμὴ βρισκόσουνα

κάπου ποὺ νὰ μὲ βλέπεις ὅταν γέρνω

καὶ σκύβω μαζωχτὴ κάτω ἀπὸ τἄγριο

χτύπημα, τὶς στριγγὲς φωνὲς ποὺ σέρνω

ἂν ἄκουες, καὶ στοῦ πόνου τὸ ξεχείλισμα

τὸ δόσιμο στὸ ξέψυχο μεθύσι,

τὰ δάκρια, ὤ, θὰ μ᾿ ἀρνιόσουν ὅλα ἂν τἄβλεπες.

Κι᾿ ὅμως μου λὲς πὼς μ᾿ ἔχεις ἀγαπήσει.

[mydaylight]

If you listened, and in the overflow of pain, the giving in to wanton drunkness, the tears, oh would deny all to me if you saw them and still you say you have loved me

Maria Polydouri - Who knows...

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Do you have any recommendations for female Greek poets that have been translated into English? Whenever I search, I always get results about ancient texts, and I like those too but I also want to know what modern Greek women are writing

I found some that are quite famous in the poetry sphere of Greece today, with great poems, many sales, and many awards. I couldn't possibly cover them all but I think it would be interesting for you to search about the lives of the ones mentioned below and what type of poetry they wrote:

Kiki Dimoula (Κική Δημουλά)

Maria Polydouri (Μαρία Πολυδούρη)

Zoe Karelli (Ζωή Καρέλλη)

Myrtiotissa (Θεώνη Δρακοπούλου / Μυρτιώτισσα , pseudonym)

Katerina Aggelaki-Rouk (Κατερίνα Αγγελάκη-Ρουκ)

Katerina (Kiki) Gogou (Κατερίνα (Κική) Γώγου)

Maria Laina (Μαρία Λαϊνά)

I want to leave two poems down below, the first by Kiki Gogou, and the second by Maria Laina. (In my experience, direct translation from Google will show you more than me trying to translate it well in English, But I can also help you with the meaning, if you like!)

«Εμένα οι φίλοι μου» - Κική Γώγου

Εμένα οι φίλοι μου είναι μαύρα πουλιά που κάνουν τραμπάλα στις ταράτσες ετοιμόρροπων σπιτιών Εξάρχεια Πατήσια Μεταξουργείο Μετς. Κάνουν ό,τι λάχει. Πλασιέ τσελεμεντέδων και εγκυκλοπαιδειών φτιάχνουν δρόμους και ενώνουν ερήμους διερμηνείς σε καμπαρέ της Ζήνωνος επαγγελματίες επαναστάτες παλιά τους στρίμωξαν και τα κατέβασαν τώρα παίρνουν χάπια και οινόπνευμα να κοιμηθούν αλλά βλέπουν όνειρα και δεν κοιμούνται.

Εμένα οι φίλες μου είναι σύρματα τεντωμένα στις ταράτσες παλιών σπιτιών Εξάρχεια Βικτώρια Κουκάκι Γκύζη.Πάνω τους έχετε καρφώσει εκατομμύρια σιδερένια μανταλάκια τις ενοχές σας αποφάσεις συνεδρίων δανεικά φουστάνια σημάδια από καύτρες περίεργες ημικρανίες απειλητικές σιωπές κολπίτιδες ερωτεύονται ομοφυλόφιλους τριχομονάδες καθυστέρηση το τηλέφωνο το τηλέφωνο το τηλέφωνο σπασμένα γυαλιά το ασθενοφόρο κανείς.

Κάνουν ό,τι λάχει. Όλο ταξιδεύουν οι φίλοι μου γιατί δεν τους αφήσατε σπιθαμή για σπιθαμή.

Όλοι οι φίλοι μου ζωγραφίζουνε με μαύρο χρώμα γιατί τους ρημάξατε το κόκκινο γράφουνε σε συνθηματική γλώσσα γιατί η δική σας μόνο για γλύψιμο κάνει. Οι φίλοι μου είναι μαύρα πουλιά και σύρματα στα χέρια σας. Στο λαιμό σας. Οι φίλοι μου.

And here it is, melodized, and one of the singers is Sokratis Malamas.

«Δ΄ Θριαμβικό» - Μαρία Λαϊνά

Αν κάποτε πεθάνω,

μην ακούσεις ποτέ πως τάχα «κείμαι ενθάδε»:

εσύ θα με 'βρεις στην αναπνοή του αγέρα

στο φευγαλέο, παιδικό χαμόγελο.

Αν κάποτε πεθάνω,

μη διαβάσεις ποτέ το όνομά μου σε πέτρα:

εσύ θα ξέρεις να μ' ακούσεις στον αχό της άνοιξης

και στην επιμονή του ήχου της βροχής.

Αν κάποτε πεθάνω,

μην πιστέψεις ποτέ πως η αγάπη μου τελείωσε:

σκέψου πως θα σε περιμένει,

σ' άλλες αισθήσεις περιγράφοντας την ομορφιά σου.

Here are three of my sources for the names. You can also translate things from here, and I can help you if you have trouble finding info about a certain poet. I think I'd overwhelm you by leaving huge paragraphs about their lives here. But most are worth searching!

[oldwinesoul]

…and when I’ll show my wounds to the stars, I’ll be dead.

—Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, “I’m  the Flower,” wr. c. 1925

[invisiblebeesstuff]

[con-alas-de-angeles]

Kisses made of terror. Kisses made of electricity. Kisses made of horror and brutal truth and holiness.

Maria Polydouri, A Cold Breath Froze

[barcarole]

I remember now... the memories, floods that drown me, wind, darkness. The words you plucked like flowers, but now they open in me bad, deep wounds.

Maria Polydouri, Your Words (trans. Mollie Boring)

[epestrefe]

Κοντά σου-Θάνος Ανεστόπουλος

Μουσική : Θάνος Ανεστόπουλος, Ποίηση : Μαρία Πολυδούρη

Κοντά σου δεν αχούν άγρια οι άνεμοι Κοντά σου είναι η γαλήνη και το φως Στου νου μας τη χρυσόβεργη ανέμη ο ρόδινος τυλιέται στοχασμός Κοντά σου η σιγαλιά σαν γέλιο μοιάζει Που αντιφεγγίζουν μάτια τρυφερά, κι αν κάποτε μιλάμε, αναφτεριάζει πλάι μας κάπου η άνεργη χαρά Κοντά σου η θλίψη ανθίζει σαν λουλούδι κι ανύποπτα περνά μες στη ζωή Κοντά σου όλα γλυκά κι όλα σαν χνούδι, σα χάδι, σαν δροσούλα σαν πνοή

Ο Θάνος Ανεστόπουλος έφυγε σαν σήμερα στις 3 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016

[birdsongsofpersia]

As if out of place,

[I’ve lived on this earth as if out of place,] — Maria Polydouri

Just before I hooked round to chain my bicycle to the lamp post and begin to mount the stairs to Albaicin in search of a quiet step to read and write the night away - a wild sound : drums, and not just any drums, but furious drums played in reckless abandonment. A crowd forms around him, playing on a large industrial container, and he’s in a trance. People begin to dance, shouting. Life, suddenly, happening, from the nowhere. Leaving, as the drummer collapsed onto the cobbled streets in exhaustion, someone approaches me, stocky, black eyes, and asks me if I’d like to drink wine with him. “And what is your idea of spirit?” he says to me for the upteenth time, a few hours later, at Miradora de la Luna. He’s drunk, drunker than I and the full moon have ever been. This time, I stop. I gaze out at the city. I see the buildings aching under their objects and the weight of the emotions that live inside deferred. The stars exhausted attempting to show themselves through this smog. The mountains in which I should live, but have left. The taxis screaming through crowds of frogs after the long-awaited rains, unnoticing, uncaring. The abandoned mansion in front of us, all boarded up. The homeless old woman outside the Alienista block where I teach every Thursday, and how broken she is, and it is time kneel down to her and ask what she needs. This is spirit, and how I have lived far from it, for so long. And in these months, of deep struggle, I return, slowly, slowly, almost an unmovable weight of resistance to open eyes, to remembrance of dreams. “It’s the other...the other me, the other you, the other tree, the other birds...seen only when vitally aware...” “And what’s not spirit?” I laughed, picked up the pipe that he’d given me in exchange for the three bottles of wine, that I barely touch, and point at myself. “You’re looking at him right now. And I have to do everything I can to return back.” He sighs. “Are you not just a bit of a mariposa?” he asks. I change subject, not wanting to go there. Not wanting his hands especially, or anyone’s hands upon me, for now, until I’ve returned back. “Don’t you ever worry about the future, living day to day, selling things you make, eating recycled food every night, and the time you’ll get sick?” I ask him. He begins throwing punches and jabs inches from my face. And now, they say, and now. I gaze out at my adopted city, to the mountains where I will return, that great remembering,

[runningfromadream]

I lived on this earth as if out of place.

Maria Polydouri

[journalofanobody]

Maria Polydouri (Greek: Μαρία Πολυδούρη; 1 April 1902 – 29 April 1930) was a Greek poet that belonged to the school of Neo-romanticism.

Polydouri was born in Kalamata. She was the daughter of the philologist Eugene Polydouris and Kyriaki Markatou, a woman with early feminist beliefs. She completed her high school studies in Kalamata, and had also gone to school in Gytheio and Filiatra, as well as in Arsakeio in Athens for two years. She was a contemporary of Kostas Karyotakis, with whom she had a desperate but incomplete love affair. Although she wrote poetry from an early age, her most important poems were written during the last four years of her life, when, suffering from Consumption (disease), she was secluded in an Athens Sanatorium, where she died in 1930.

She first appeared in the Literary world at age 14 with the prose poem “The Pain of the Mother”, which refers to the death of a sailor who was washed up on the shores of Filiatra and is influenced by the lamentations heard in Mani Peninsula. At sixteen she was appointed to the Prefecture of Messenia and also expressed keen interest in The woman question. In 1920, during the time period of forty days, she lost both her parents.

In 1921 she was transferred to the Prefecture of Athens while enrolled at the Law School of the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens. Kostas Karyotakis, a fellow poet of the time was working at the same service sector. After their encounter, a fierce love developed, which did not last long but decisively influenced her life and work.

They first met in January 1922. Polydouri was then 20 years old, while Karyotakis was 26. She had published some juvenilia poems while he had published two poetry collections - “The pain of Men and things” (1919) and “Nepenthe” (1921) - and had already won the respect of some critics and fellow-craftsmen.

In the summer of 1922 Karyotakis discovered that he suffered from Syphilis, a disease that was incurable and bore social stigma. He immediately informed Polydouri about this and asked her to end their relationship. She proposed to marry without having children, but he was too proud to accept the sacrifice. Maria doubted his sincerity and felt that his illness was pretext of her lover to leave her.

In 1924, she met Aristotelis Georgiou, a lawyer who had just returned from Paris. Polydouri got engaged to him in early 1925.

Despite the dedication to her fiancé, Polydouri could not concentrate seriously in any activity. She lost her job in the public sector after repeated absences and dropped out of Law School. She studied at the Kounallaki Drama School and even managed to appear as an actress in a play, “The Little Rag”, for which she had the lead role.

In the summer of 1926 she broke off her engagement and left for Paris. She studied dressmaking but could not work because she contracted tuberculosis. She returned to Athens in 1928 and was hospitalized at Sotiria Hospital, where she learned about the suicide of her former lover, Kostas Karyotakis. In the same year she released her first poetry collection “The Chirps that faint” and in 1929 the second, “Echo over chaos”. Polydouri left two prose works, her diary and an untitled novel in which she mercilessly scoffs the conservatism and hypocrisy of the time. She left her last breath in the morning of April 29, 1930 due to tuberculosis after a series of morphine injections that were given to her by a friend in Christomanos Clinic. 

(Wikipedia:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Polydouri)

[seaanimalonland]

Only Because You Loved Me | Maria Polydouri

I only sing because you loved me in the past years. And in the sun, in summer’s prediction and in rain, and in snow, I only sing because you loved me.

Only because you kept your hands on me one night and you kissed me on my lips, only for that, am I as fine as an open lily And I have a shiver in my soul, only because you kept your hands on me.

Only because your eyes looked at me with the soul glancing, proudly I adorned the ultimate crown of my being, Only because your eyes looked at me

Only because you noticed me as I passed And by your look I saw passing my svelte shadow as a dream playing, hurting Only because you noticed me as I passed

Because you hesitantly called me And you stretched to my hand And you had in your eyes the blur A complete love Because you hesitantly called me

Only because you liked it, That’s why my passing kept being nice. As if you were following me wherever As if you came close to me somewhere Only because you liked it.

Only because you loved me I was born, so my life was given. In graceless unfulfilled life so my life was fulfilled. Only because you loved me I was born.

Only for your special love dawn gave roses in my hands. To illuminate for a moment your way night filled my eyes with stars Only for your special love.

Only because you loved me wonderfully I lived to pullulate your dreams, beautiful king And so sweet I’m dying Only because you loved me wonderfully

via fables-of-the-reconstruction

[mydaylight]

Maria Polydouri's poetry gives me such Marisa Coulter feels but especially this verse:

If you listened, and in the overflow of pain, the giving in to the wanton drunkness, the tears, oh you would deny me all if you saw them, and yet you say you have loved me.

(rough translation by me from greek)

Reminds so much of Marisa being left behind crying when Asriel abandons her at Svalbard! 😭😭😭

[anouri]

about the poem i dont think so you can find the poem in english cause she is greek and many poems arent translate, i will try tho

the greek title is: σαν πεθάνω

the closet to english is: like i am dying (i guess, sounds wrong but someone can take it also as when i will die)

basically in her poem she describes her death, or when she will reach that moment

funfact. yes she died on 24th april of 1930, early in the morning she was 28 years old

https://impactalk.gr/en/stories-talk/maria-polydouri-romantic-poet

heres an article about her life and her big love who was kostas karyotakis, i will try to translate the poem tho

i just read the article and her story is so sad 😭 like she truly couldn’t catch a break, huh?

even the poem at the end of the article has me in pieces, i—

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

“You are flooded by fairies and their ephemeral beauty with the secret peaceful light of my dream.”

— Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “How Can I Say It To You”

[con-alas-de-angeles]

I long for all I’ve lost and the witch old woman tells me that the shadows which go away always return.

Maria Polydouri, All I Have Lost c. 1926