ΛΟΡΚΑ

FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA

Η ΠΟΡΝΗ (ΟΛΩΝ Η ΓΥΝΑΙΚΑ)

Μετάφραση: Γιώργος Κεντρωτής

ΣΚΩΡ

ROBERT GERNHARDT


ΣΤΟΙΧΕΙΑ ΚΡΙΤΙΚΗΣ ΣΤΗ ΓΝΩΣΤΟΤΕΡΗ ΠΟΙΗΤΙΚΗ ΜΟΡΦΗ ΙΤΑΛΙΚΗΣ ΚΑΤΑΓΩΓΗΣ

Για μένα πάντως τα σονέτα είναι σκατά :
φρικτή φόρμα, ανυπόφορη, σωστός κορσές,
και μου σηκώνεται η τρίχα, αληθινά,
όταν ακούω ότι υπάρχουν ποιητές

που και την σήμερον ακόμη ημέρα
ασχολούνται με αυτές τις σαχλαμάρες.
Α, δεν χωράει ανοχή εδώ πέρα !
Οι κάτι τέτοιοι θέλουνε σφαλιάρες

ή, πιο καλά, ένα γερό μπερντάχι,
μήπως και κόψουν όλ’ αυτές τις πλάκες
που μου ανακατεύουν το στομάχι !

Τί επιδιώκουν τελικά οι μαλάκες ;
Ιδέα δεν έχω, σας το λέω ειλικρινά.
Πάντως για μένα τα σονέτα είναι σκατά.


1985



Μετάφραση: Κώστας Κουτσουρέλης.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 9

ANNA SEWARD (1747-1809)


TO MR. HENRY CARY, ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS SONNETS

Praised be the poet who the sonnet's claim,
Severest of the orders that belong
Distinct and separate to the Delphic song,
Shall venerate, nor its appropriate name

Lawless assume. Peculiar is its frame
From him derived who shunned the city throng
And warbled sweet thy rocks and streams among,
Lonely Valclusa!--
and that heir of fame,

Our greater Milton, hath by many a lay
Formed on that arduous model, fully shown
The English verse may happily display

Those strict energic measures, which alone
Deserve the name of sonnet, and convey
A grandeur, grace, and spirit all their own.



Το υλικό της ανάρτησης μάς το έστειλε η εικονιζόμενη φίλη του ιστολογίου κ. Hillary Duff.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 8

RICHARD WATSON GILDER (1844-1909)


THE SONNET

What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously:
It is a little picture painted well.

What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell
From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;
A two-edged sword, a star, a song--ah me!
Sometimes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.

This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath;
The solemn organ whereon Milton played,
And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls:

A sea this is--beware who ventureth!
For like a fjord the narrow floor is laid
Mid-ocean deep to the sheer mountain walls.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 7

FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER (1814-1863)


SONNET-WRITING: TO HIMSELF

Young men should not write sonnets, if they dream
Some day to reach the bright bare seats of fame:
To such, sweet thoughts and mighty feelings seem
As though, like foreign things, they rarely came.

Eager as men when haply they have heard
Of some new songster, some gay-feathered bird,
That hath over blue seas strayed in hope to find
In our thin foliage here a summer home

Fain would they catch the bright things in their mind,
And cage them into sonnets as they come.
No; they should serve their wants most sparingly,

Till the ripe time of song, when young thoughts fail,
Then their sad sonnets, like old bards, might be
Merry as youth, and yet grey-haired and hale.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 6

EBENEZER ELLIOTT (1781-1849)


POWERS OF THE SONNET

Why should the tiny harp be chained to themes
In fourteen lines, with pedant rigour bound?
The sonnet's might is mightier than it seems:
Witness the bard of Eden lost and found,

Who gave this lute a clarion's battle sound.
And lo! another Milton calmly turns
His eyes within, a light that ever burns,
Waiting till Wordsworth's second peer be found!

Meantime, Fitzadam's mournful music shows
That the scorned sonnet's charm may yet endear
Some long deep strain, or lay of well-tolled woes;

Such as in Byron's couplet brings a tear
To manly cheeks, or over his stanza throws
Rapture and grief, solemnity and fear.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 5

THOMAS EDWARDS (1599-1648)

IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA
(MENAGIANA)

Capricious wray a sonnet needs must have;
I ne'er was so put to 't before--a sonnet!
Why, fourteen verses must be spent upon it:
"Tis good, howe'er, t' have conquered the first stave.

Yet I shall ne'er find rhymes enough by half,"
Said I, and found myself i' the midst o' the second.
If twice four verses were but fairly reckoned,
I shall turn back on th' hardest part and laugh.

Thus far, with good success I think I've scribbled,
And of the twice seven lines have clean got o'er ten,
Courage! another'll finish the first triplet.

Thanks to thee, muse, my work begins to shorten.
There's thirteen lines got through, driblet by driblet,
'Tis done! count how you will, I warr'nt there's fourteen.


Το σονέττο αυτό μας το έστειλε η εικονιζόμενη φίλη της ποίησης κ. Angelica Bridges.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 4

ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796)


A SONNET UPON SONNETS

Fourteen, a sonneteer thy praises sings;
What magic myst'ries in that number lie!
Your hen hath fourteen eggs beneath her wings
That fourteen chickens to the roost may fly.

Fourteen full pounds the jockey's stone must be;
His age fourteen--a horse's prime is past.
Fourteen long hours too oft the Bard must fast;
Fourteen bright bumpers--bliss he ne'er must see!

Before fourteen, a dozen yields the strife;
Before fourteen--e'en thirteen's strength is vain.
Fourteen good years--a woman gives us life;

Fourteen good men--we lose that life again.
What lucubrations can be more upon it?
Fourteen good measur'd verses make a sonnet.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 3

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850)


NUNS FRET NOT AT TEIR CONVENT’S NARROW ROOM

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,

Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom

Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;

Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 2

JOHN KEATS (1795-1821)


ON THE SONNET

If by dull rhymes our English must be chained,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
Fettered, in spite of painéd loveliness;
Let us find out, if we must be constrained,

Sandals more interwoven and complete
To fit the naked foot of poesy;
Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress
Of every chord, and see what may be gained

By ear industrious, and attention meet;
Misers of sound and syllable, no less
Than Midas of his coinage, let us be

Jealous of dead leaves in the bay-wreath crown;
So, if we may not let the Muse be free,
She will be bound with garlands of her own.

ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 1

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI (1828-1882)


A SONNET

A Sonnet is a moment's monument,--
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,

Of its own arduous fulness reverent:
Carve it in ivory or in ebony,
As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see
Its flowering crest impearled and orient.

A Sonnet is a coin: its face reveals
The soul,--its converse, to what Power 'tis due:--
Whether for tribute to the august appeals

Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue,
It serve, or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath,
In Charon's palm it pay the toll to Death.