Re: Kultur/Muzik/Sanat
Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 2:54 pm
Cocukken annem ve babam evde hep Mikis Theodorakis'in plaklarini calarlardi. Arada Maria Farantouri, Manos Hadjidakis falan da. Ama bir plak vardi hic unutmam, siyah kapaginda Theodorakis'in yuzu olan, adi Epihany D'Averoff. Pilagi Isvec'e götururken evden kaptim tabii. Dinlerken tuylerimi diken diken yapan bir parca, en sonunda youtube'da buldum (yeni versiyonu Mario Frangoulis söyluyor, uamrim teneke sesli Zivaneli el atmaz bu parcaya da ama bulsa da seslendirecek bu koroyu bulamaz). Bu plagi ve CD'i bulmak imkansiz gibi. Cok az kisi bilir meraklisi disinda. Sözleri bir o kadar guzel. Mutlak dinleyin derim, muzigin zamansizligi ve mekansizligini hissedeceginiz ender parcalardan biri. Insani adeta tanri katina cikaran, en guzel degerleri insana hissettiren bir parca. Ingilizce bilenler ve siire duskun olan ince ruhlu kardeslerim lutfen sözlerini de okusunlar. Acikcasi kolay kolay hicbirseye hayranlik duymam ama bu yunan kulturune, bagrindan felsefeyi, bilimi, sanati cikaran antik Yunan'a resmen hayranim hem de iliklerime kadar. Onlardan ögrenecegimiz cok sey vardi, bir bok alamadik alamadigimiz icinde su an kabile toplumuyuz, cobanlar tarafindan guduluyoruz, kendilerine kendi kendine "liberal aydin" sifati takan cahil vicdansiz eblehlerin de destegi ile.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kOf5zig ... 1&index=41
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The flowering sea and the mountains in the moon's waning
the great stone close to the Barbary figs and the asphodels
the jar that refused to go dry at the end of the day
and the closed bed by the cypress trees and your hair
golden; the stars of the Swan and that other star, Aldebaran.
I've kept a rein on my life, kept a rein on my life, travelling
among yellow trees in driving rain
on silent slopes loaded with beech leaves,
no fire on their peaks; it's getting dark.
I've kept a rein on my life; on your left hand a line
a scar at your knee, perhaps they exist
on the sand of the past summer perhaps
they remain there where the north wind blew as I hear
an alien voice around the frozen lake.
The faces I see do not ask questions nor does the woman
bent as she walks giving her child the breast.
I climb the mountains; dark ravines; the snow-covered
plain, into the distance stretches the snow-covered plain, they ask nothing
neither time shut up in dumb chapels nor
hands outstretched to beg, nor the roads.
I've kept a rein on my life whispering in a boundless silence
I no longer know how to speak nor how to think; whispers
like the breathing of the cypress tree that night
like the human voice of the night sea on pebbles
like the memory of your voice saying 'happiness'.
I close my eyes looking for the secret meeting-place of the waters
under the ice the sea's smile, the closed wells
groping with my veins for those veins that escape me
there where the water-lilies end and that man
who walks blindly across the snows of silence.
I've kept a rein on my life, with him, looking for the water that touches you
heavy drops on green leaves, on your face
in the empty garden, drops in the motionless reservoir
striking a swan dead in its white wings
living trees and your eyes riveted.
This road has no end, has no relief, however hard you try
to recall your childhood years, those who left, those
lost in sleep, in the graves of the sea,
however much you ask bodies you've loved to stoop
under the harsh branches of the plane trees there
where a ray of the sun, naked, stood still
and a dog leapt and your heart shuddered,
the road has no relief; I've kept a rein on my life.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kOf5zig ... 1&index=41
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The flowering sea and the mountains in the moon's waning
the great stone close to the Barbary figs and the asphodels
the jar that refused to go dry at the end of the day
and the closed bed by the cypress trees and your hair
golden; the stars of the Swan and that other star, Aldebaran.
I've kept a rein on my life, kept a rein on my life, travelling
among yellow trees in driving rain
on silent slopes loaded with beech leaves,
no fire on their peaks; it's getting dark.
I've kept a rein on my life; on your left hand a line
a scar at your knee, perhaps they exist
on the sand of the past summer perhaps
they remain there where the north wind blew as I hear
an alien voice around the frozen lake.
The faces I see do not ask questions nor does the woman
bent as she walks giving her child the breast.
I climb the mountains; dark ravines; the snow-covered
plain, into the distance stretches the snow-covered plain, they ask nothing
neither time shut up in dumb chapels nor
hands outstretched to beg, nor the roads.
I've kept a rein on my life whispering in a boundless silence
I no longer know how to speak nor how to think; whispers
like the breathing of the cypress tree that night
like the human voice of the night sea on pebbles
like the memory of your voice saying 'happiness'.
I close my eyes looking for the secret meeting-place of the waters
under the ice the sea's smile, the closed wells
groping with my veins for those veins that escape me
there where the water-lilies end and that man
who walks blindly across the snows of silence.
I've kept a rein on my life, with him, looking for the water that touches you
heavy drops on green leaves, on your face
in the empty garden, drops in the motionless reservoir
striking a swan dead in its white wings
living trees and your eyes riveted.
This road has no end, has no relief, however hard you try
to recall your childhood years, those who left, those
lost in sleep, in the graves of the sea,
however much you ask bodies you've loved to stoop
under the harsh branches of the plane trees there
where a ray of the sun, naked, stood still
and a dog leapt and your heart shuddered,
the road has no relief; I've kept a rein on my life.