Jim Potts, ένας άγγλος ποιητής στην Κέρκυρα

iogo · 1 · 2734


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Χτες βρήκα εντελώς τυχαία την ιστοσελίδα ενός αγγλου ποιητή, Jim Potts, ο οποίος έζησε και ζει ακόμη πολλά χρόνια στην Ελλάδα και ειδικά στην Κέρκυρα. Παραθέτω ορισμένα ποιήματα.

Τα πρώτα δύο αφορούν ένα τραγικό γεγονός του '50, τον θάνατο μιας 16χρονης Κερκυραίας (Βάντα) από καρχαρία.

1.  Vanda    
Blissful swimming
In Corfu seas.
A secret love-tryst.
Just her luck
To meet a straying shark.

2.  Vanda’s Mother
All the shutters
Of the house
Stayed closed.
She couldn’t bear
To see the sea.

Το επόμενο, κάνει αναφορά στα πρώτα μεταπολεμικά χρόνια, όταν σε ένα μικρό νησάκι, Λαζαρέτο, εκτελούσαν τους καταδικασμένους "αντάρτες".

Neo Frourio, Kerkyra
Wandering around the fortifications,
Pantocrator opposite, twin peaks
Hazy in the sultry heat.
Vido island a sharp dense green;
Dark cypresses define it,
Recall all the political prisoners
(One hundred and twelve, transported to die),
Their laments and cries from Lazaretto,
The place of execution.
I see them take that long, last look-
The picturesque view (no blindfold),
The final farewell
Before facing the Wall.

Solomos ”Corfu marvelous -but…fatal to any fighting soul”.  Kazantzakis,  1926.  
I can see why Solomos
Turned to drink:
The view from the Mourayia.
A barrel of berdea wine.
A flask of whisky
For the volta.
It helps him forget the court case;
How the British
Had become his friends.
  He composes verses in his head.
He seldom
Commits them to paper.
He looks distracted
On the Spianada.
He’s back on the Hill of Strani.

Three Paxos Poems for Nina (July, 2001)

1. From Ostrias Escarpment (looking at the new road to Avlaki Creek)
They've opened a road
Below my secret perch:
A gash across my heart.
2. Paxos Haiku
With sixty-four churches to choose from
There's no need
To feel all is lost.

3. Saint Haralambos
Saint Haralambos
Saved them all.
He repelled the plague,
He relieved the siege.
He couldn't stop
The desecration.

« Last Edit: 01 Jan, 2010, 10:46:21 by iogo »
Io non odio persona al mondo, ma vi sono cert'uomini ch'io ho bisogno di vedere soltanto da lontano.
— Ugo Foscolo, Ultime lettere di Jacopo Ortis


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