Greek Poet ILIAS FOUKIS

Greek Poet      ILIAS   FOUKIS
Poetry is the voice of the Gods

Thursday, September 1, 2016

ILIAS FOUKIS ------ BEGINNING AND END OF DESIRE


ILIAS  FOUKIS 


BEGINNING AND END OF DESIRE 




                                    

                             ‘’..In this muck
                             There is no way to escape the pollution
                             What matters is
                             To be as little polluted as one can…’’

                                                   ARTHUR  RIMBAUD
         



THE IDEALIST IN THE WORKSHOP

If there was sufficient scope
to love two...
I would have loved with a unique kind of temperament
and uncommon passion
a person and a piece of white paper.

If the paper would have expressed eagerness
                                          at being covered with signs
in this state of temptation
I would have discerned in the person
strong feminine qualities.

That would have been a Classical Reason
for the signs to seek an opening
all the way to the absolute infinite.

In any case I would have gone that far
which for the time being is
the fire of Ardor with no prostrating consequences
and I would have got even nearer
that frightened feminine human being
as if I wanted to convince it
that where the letters are overpowering
the margins are tragically reduced
for the patrons of Existence.

The paper now transformed
into thousands of meanings and messages
would seek another site
its eyes besieged
by new and enchanting landscapes.
Even better when someone dared to confront
the cruelty and frivolity of Nature

Even   better if they are besieged
by the ferocious super-man
so that the Promised Land might be included
in the vague schemes of Dreams.

Seeing thus that in this World
there is motion...
I would be content with a single placement
of the female -- woman
in the heart.



BEAUTY

At that moment when Aphrodite
conquered the fourth Sky as well
the highest circles of Society
decided that she could now be
proclaimed Illustrious Woman.

That is the great
moment had come for the Advertisement
her body to be stuck to the background of Omnipotence
or for the passions of Nature to violently trampled on
if she were
to conquer even the Ninth Heaven.


Or simply to be a contributor
to the Suns circling from Dawn to Sunset
to be executed not only
                            without any intervention of night
but also during the time period
when the Giants of money had a taste for it.


And without yet returning to her Man
Aphrodite observed that
the seas had begun to bury the blue in the earth
and the first dust had begun to fall
on the laurel wreath of victory
as the island of Cyprus
filled up with reporters and managers
and with the vilest people in the World.


The moment Hephaestus learned of all that
he locked himself in his house
and gave his full attention to his profession as gunsmith
because he too would be losing
                                                        his beautiful wife
now she had appeared before the eyes of the World.




THE SEASON OF THE IMPASSIONED

Just as in all seasons in Future as well
women will see in men
only the back side of Beauty.

So... they will savor the apples in particular
since their sweetness
will not give rise to a rude male presence.

The stars would all be embodied in glances
even though their light
would not become signals to launch male assaults.

The goddess of seas and oceans
will be pleased if their depth
doe not remind anyone
of the humankind's diving into the soul.

The vile part of Eros
that one touched and dirtied by all
will be used
for the creation of Horizons of correction
related to the mystery of the Existence of Gardens
in desolate regions of the soul and the World.

And since this manner
leads women to mass betrayals
the front part of Beauty
will be used with great success
for the articulation of protests
which are constantly reaching the point
of Don Juan being replaced by History.


THE EXISTENCE OF APHRODITE


The thought you are leaving
ceaselessly irrevocably from me
has brought to a halt at the Gates of my heart
the motion of Stars...Birds...
Dreams... Thoughts
and all the Planets
at exactly the point of their happiest days.

Despite all that
such unconscious imaginings
die early
and there is a great likelihood
that as soon as the funeral service of Matter
has been eradicated from my suspicions
you will come back to me one day again.

But nothing will change
regarding the consequences of that Procession
because since I never wanted to be alone
I would ask you...

Where were you so long?
Since the creation of the World?
With whom..?
Finally...how could you yourself have been anywhere?

The Stars...
in their light
not able to stand the cold of loneliness
hoping that virility
will be glowing somewhere else...
The birds
whose motion will remind you
how you too could seek out another roof...

The thoughts
how they convinced you that you Exist!
The Dreams
with which this landscape has misted over
you would have asked something more from nature...

Finally ... All the Planets
going round them
the one after the other
believing that you were somewhere...
Well then, all these were in me. 



THE DISAPPEARANCE


Since I was away
the previous century you disappeared
and no one was able to find you.

The explorers were trapped
by the metamorphosis of Breath into Fog...

Somewhere at the end of hope...they were persuaded that
either they were searching on an Earth without love
or that love on this Earth
was very dense.

In this boomerang of conjecture
you found the opportunity to move even further away.

Of course...without anyone bothering you
since even that smattering of birds
that might have been able to spot you
from the heights of their own Virtue
had never understood the language
                                                        humans speak...
or perhaps it has never been comprehensible.

And I am certain that you roam about on this Earth
which is either surrounded by nothing at all
or is surrounded by great speed
in order to catch the Ancient Rhythm
for the surrounding of the senses in the Soul.

And you again may find the opportunity to escape
especially now
for the Ancients have appeared on
on the stage of the Modern Era
as if confirming
the despairing truths about Idols
with their perpetual inclination
to bantering and tragic irony.

But whether they are blessed or cursed
you daydreamers out there
must get it through your head
that in this sudden Presence
there will be no miracle.

And the Ancients appear disappointed
not in the mood at all for a Renaissance.
It seems they have wearied of pursuing
Virtues and Conscience.

They were endlessly looking for ideal women
as they sought a peaceful catharsis
                                                        in their tragedies...
and the brilliant diamonds of desires
which they have imagined on the breasts of women
were transformed into tears of disappointment
by their admirers
when they saw their generosity and grandeur
being soiled on the corners of Athens
in pursuit of Mary Magdalene.

It happened later... Magdalene’s repentance.


But the Ancients and I
do not want to bow down quite yet
and hold our heads high.

But our eyes are riveted there
where Eve looked forward to the woman
who would be to her liking
so that waiting for her to come down
we have been left without Epoch.

This Epoch
has passed in your possession
and with it you will create
another Human History
which will be colonized by the Existence of Women
for the vilest taste...

And most important of all...
since the Earth
                            of that Human History
will have no trees
which you must bloody yourself in order to climb
to reach the Height of Female Love
and because of this serious lack of Ethos
the Height of the Feminine Ideal
will be even with the level of the ground.



THE INDICTMENT


In all Seasons
I would be able to charge you
with having stolen half my life
in my thinking of you.

The half of my life
which unfolded on this Earth
despite knowing what a disaster would occur
in the thoughts of the living
when by means of the terrible monotony of processions
the depressing result would be announced
of the battle with the patrons
of temporary Existence.

That is also why you were in a hurry
to steal half of the Earth from me
as long as I was thinking about sleeping with you.

The half of my sleep
which unfolded in the Sky
not worried that it would be challenged by a God
from the time when you...
you were dreamlike only on Earth
laying the foundations thus for the Idea
                                          of Eternal Hypnosis
despite the fact we know that Dreams were scandalized
when they were calculated with the dimensions of the Heavens
that was Idea you were wearing
in order to confront
                            the fierce human winter
impossible to violate.
Because you remained untouched by any desires
all agreements have been broken.

And you accepted walking once more on the Earth
despite the fact you knew there awaited you
the indifference of the wasteland...
But you wanted to climb up to the Sky
knowing that you were outside the love of the living
despite the fact that at the Gate of the heart
you can feel a large multitude
of stars awaiting you there.

Nevertheless I have withdrawn
to the dry lands of the indictment
and rule there on my own.

A strange kingdom this one of mine
having no one at my beck and call
and without being a candle for anyone’s fate.

Despite all that setting off now
for my one and only fortune
I see thousands of daydreamers quarrelling
about the matter of the bequest.

Happiness...by dear visionaries
is non-existent in the wealth of this property
but in that way...to my surprise
being truly open to the blessings or the blasphemies
                                                                                    of Heaven...
there will be built on it the white Temples of Theology
for the People who even after all this vain futility
will try the Luck
of Existence here on Earth.


KING SOLOMON

The women who King Solomon loved
the most
were those women
whose soul heed imagined
like the rivers flow.

But immediately after
this ardent desire
old Solomon coolly concluded
that the rivers flow leads them to the sea
and to that boundless blue of the oceans
where all the Temples and Sins
of the Earth are devitalized
and he might thus lose the control he had over Women.

Then King Solomon
in a fit of anger remembered that he was in command
and in the case of danger
he would know how to stop
these maddened rivers.

But this was not the only danger...
Besides the seas and the rivers
the female view of the cosmos also included the sky...

Indeed of late
he had information from his secret agents
that women were exchanging looks with the Stars
and...consequently
their hearts which he had assumed
were near at hand and under complete possession
like the walls of palaces
burned as one with those distant fires.

And thus in that way
King Solomon began to repent
because before he created his Kingdom
he had not thought of incorporating all the Stars
in the celestial territory of the Monarchy
and now at this advanced age
he had to do a detailed study of Astrology.

But old Solomon
had discovered a long time ago all on his own
that Heaven and the Mysteries of the Heaven
were like women
whom he had never loved.

Since the Astrologers of the Future
exploiting the derangement of mortals
entered into negotiations with the Heavens
he from the moment charged them
with enormous spiritual failures
and provocative stupidity
that would have deprived Women
of that Amour which broke down fences
with the force of the enticements
to reach the Promised Land
like a divine oracle
rushing with the conviction of rivers.

IMMORTALITY

If we two
loved each other for one whole day
the next morning
we would awaken with the thought
that employing the same dynamism
we would be able to love all year round.


Since we two
would love the whole year round
like a clear horizon would hover
before us the idea
that in contrast to the paleness
                                          of the light of eyes
our love would be always brighter and brighter
for the entire century.


And if we two
could manage such a miracle
light and guileless as all speeds are
we would race along in the thought
that we might well love
for all the Centuries.
 This final thought,however,
would be quite burdensome..
and severely punished
the Gods of Olympus with supreme charge
'' For giving  humanity the secret
                                      of Happiness''
and under the weight of her blind
may die.   
   


Translation by   PHILIP   RAMP 

Thursday, March 10, 2016

SHAKESPEARE BEFORE THE PERFORMANCE Poem by ILIAS FOUKIS


BIOGRAPHY

The Greek poet ILIAS FOUKIS , was born on 20 August 1969 in Epirus in northwestern Greece. Began to write poetry since 1988 when he was student in the Lyceum. Published volume of poetry THE TESTAMENT OF A LESSER GOD , which has been translated into ten languages including English, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, etc.. Has won literary awards - OSCAR DE DOS OURO VENCEDORES, Brazil 2012 - MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO, Italy, 2012, 2013 - CITA DEL GALATEO, Italy in 2013. MASSIMO D;AZEGLIO 2016. His poem titled YOUNG GREEK SOLITARY was included in Poetry Anthology - U.S. Library of Congress. Works and lives in Athens.




Fans of my Poetry and Poetry in general. Happy Year of Shakespeare. I wrote this poem in 1999. Now we publish the solemn anniversary of the genius of humanity. The case is to take your ratings and comments for this poem. I look forward to...







SHAKESPEARE BEFORE THE PERFORMANCE


Tomorrow night there’ll be a performance
and in the morning
I’d like to drop in on rehearsals.


Since night is no time to get involved
with the fanfares of glory
I’ll slip out for a while into the world of the Defeated.

Their God died sometime ago.


Only their Fate continues to be vital
and thus isolated as they are...so very far from the Earth
they are drowning in the sorrow that they have no right at all
to see that their past which the chroniclers
were in such a hurry to embody in memories
has now returned so acrimonious and venomous
and being mounted with such spectacular and terrible expertise
so its case may be pleaded
in the Theatre of the World.


That is also why I came down here
to confront with them
the new approaching state of History
which if I were to compare it to a frenzied river
the Monarchs are those who without the slightest
doubt have harrowed to the point of collapse
this schizophrenic tragedy.


The Monarchs know this all too well
and indeed one of them who is still alive
with his spectres secreted beneath his white uniform
will play his part in the performance
which is in conformity with all artistic contingencies
and will topple so many idols
even demolish the Astronomical view of the Universe.


You were right to bring Heaven back
to the World’s stage...
because it had become utterly revolting and gross...


Moreover Heaven had distanced itself
from my heart as well...
and indeed because of this distancing
it seems to me it is I who have made the mistake.


The moment I found myself caught up in the resolve
of the Defeated
to once more appear on the solid ground of History
I should have suggested that the director of the performance
incorporate into the work a scene
which dealt with the Ethos and Breeding transmitted
by the patrons and boot-lickers of the Palace.


Because by the time the Sovereign is able to feel
once more King
the Defeated will have slipped out of my control
and on one of the unsullied areas of the Planet
Hell acting along with Paradise will wage
within a single hour a life and death war
so that just a few moments before the sun rises
the procedure
for the conquest of the Throne
will have come to an end.


The Victor will make it understood
to those there
that it is not mere chance
that he is the one assuming the Throne
at precisely the moment
when the Sun is coming into the World.


Whatever happens
his authority though it sink at evening
will be returned again by nature at dawn.

After this intrepid rationalization
regarding the things of the World
thousands of proposals will be made to me
for press interviews
literary appearances
and other such contemporary trivialities...

But I would not want to look at
the Sun of this foul authority
and in full flood of mourning
I would pull back into the dark
in order to foresee
the coming tragedies of this world


Translation  by  PHILIP RAMP


Thursday, September 3, 2015

DON KISHOTI Poem in albanian by ILIAS FOUKIS

                                 
BIOGRAPHY

The Greek poet ILIAS FOUKIS , was born on 20 August 1969 in Epirus in northwestern Greece. Began to write poetry since 1988 when he was student in the Lyceum. Published volume of poetry THE TESTAMENT OF A LESSER GOD , which has been translated into ten languages including English, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, etc.. Has won literary awards - OSCAR DE DOS OURO VENCEDORES, Brazil 2012 - MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO, Italy, 2012, 2013 - CITA DEL GALATEO, Italy in 2013. MASSIMO D;AZEGLIO 2016. His poem titled YOUNG GREEK SOLITARY was included in Poetry Anthology - U.S. Library of Congress. Works and lives in Athens.





         DON KISHOTI

                  

                                 Meqë ashtu mu shkrep
                                 do të desha të luaj një film.

                                 Unë do të marr rolin e Botës

                                 dhe Botës do ti jap të luaj rolin tim.


                                 Po derisa Bota të mësoj 

                                 të luaj rolin e Don Kishotit
                                 mua më mbetet në dispozicion mjaft kohë....
                                 Gati një histori e dytë njerëzore
                                 gjatë së cilës
                                 zelli im për Lavdinë do ta kapërcej
                                 seriozitetin e zgjerimit të perandorive.

                        

                                 Të gjitha këto pa kuajt..
                                 dhe rrjedhimisht pa qederin 
                                 se pjesën më Tribune të Lavdisë
                                 kjo botë ziliqare
                                 mund tua japë kuajve.


                                 Ajo tashmë i ka marrë ata

                                 për të luajtur së bashku rolin e Don Kishotit
                                 dhe i shoh mes maleve të mbyllura të Mançës
                                 tek rreh kuajt e gjorë..
                                 të cilët duke patsur një përvojë
                                 për mbartjen e Don Kishotit mbi shpinë
                                 ishin një shkak i mirë 
                                 që të shpresonin naivët e Mesjetës
                                 se më në fund gjetën logjikën dhe teknikat e Lashta
                                 të shkuarjes për në Trojë.


                                  Dhe rrjedhimisht...

                                  unë nuk mund të ulem kaq poshtë
                                  sa të luaj rolin e botës.

                                  Vetëm nxitohem nga mundësia që më jep

                                  qëndrimi larg përgatitjes së stuhive të Kohës
                                         për të qenë një Don Kishot i vërtetë     
                                   që akuzon rëndë Monarkinë e Spanjës
                                   për marrveshjen e saj të fshehtë me Botën
                                   mbas zbulimit të planeve të mia
                                   për krijimin e një Historie të Dytë njerëzore.


                                    Por ai..si gjithë të tjerët 

                                    ishte thjesht një Vegim
                                    që mund ta kishin dhe Spanja me Botën..
                                    Por vetëm me një kusht..
                                    Në qoftë se mbi shprtin e tyre do të rëndonte verbi
                                    - Kthimet e dëshpëruara në Mançë.


                                      Por ata nuk janë kthyer kurrë..

                                      sepse nuk i priste askush.
                                      Dhe më tragjikja..
                                      Prej Spanjës dhe Botës askush nuk priste
                                      se mund të shkonin diku.


                                      Dhe kaq e hidhur më duket kjo

                                      saqë logjika ime e zënë me gjithfarë punësh
                                      do të merret tani
                                      me ngjashmërinë banale të Epokave...
                                      meqë më akuzuan se 
                                      në qoftë se ka një paqartësi 
                                      në thelbin filozofik të Historisë
                                      kjo ka ndodhur sepse unë
                                      paskam vjedhur origjinalitetin e Kohrave.


                                      Merreni vesh mirë pra,

                                      se pikërisht e kundërta ka ndodhur.


                                       Vetë Epokat të ndezura si qirinj..

                                       përfund fatit të zymtë Perandorak
                                       në kohën kur u dilte shpirti dalngadalë
                                       luteshin ti mbante në jetë një fllad.
                                

                                        Ashtu siç duhej të ndodhte,

                                        flladet e kishin braktisur këtë Botë
                                        por edhe unë që isha diçka më shumë se Botë..
                                        kurrë nuk mësova të jem fllad..

                                        Vetë u gjenda përballë tyre si stuhi..

                                        kërcënuese per Idhujt e ndjenjave të tyre
                                                                                arrogante
                                        që me elegancën cinike të Abelit
                                        largoheshin nga tokat e mjera të botës
                                        pikërisht kur Njerëzimi po mbyllej 
                                        brenda Tablove dogmatike të Shënjtorve.

                                        Kurrë nuk jam përballur 

                                        me ato portrete të çuditshme...
                                        por edhe sikur të përballesha
                                        kam përshtypjen e dëshpëruar se 
                                        duke nxjerrë Kryqin përballë sulmit 
                                        të gjoja Satanait Don Kishot, 
                                        për të mos skandalizuar nderin e Botës
                                        do të më detyronin të tërhiqesha..

                                        Çka do të ishte për botën naive

                                        edhe fundi i tragjedisë.

                                        Ndërsa unë..

                                        ndonëse jam i sigurt se nuk më dëgjon askush
                                        do të thosha se është fillimi i Tragjedisë.

                                        Mbas kësaj vjen popullimi i Dialektikës Hyjnore...

                                        që do të korruptojë ndjeshmërinë e botës..
                                        për njerzit që do të vazhdojnë të jenë të vdekshëm..
                                        (dhe megjithë se Mança qeveris punët e Hadesit)
                                        dhe për këtë shpirt..
                                        të paringjallshëm.

                              

                                         Por kjo tragjedi e pamëshirshme
                                         nuk do ta trondisë këtë botë naive
                                         që do ti ngrejë në altare shenjtorët.


                                         Madje pa frikë mund të them

                                         se megjithëse marrëzia donkishoteske
                                         mbetet i vetmi manifest i shpërthimeve njerëzore, 
                                         jetojmë megjithëatë në Epokën e Shënjtorve.

                                         


                                          Dhe tani i zhytur në këtë muzg mesdhetar

                                          ku fryn nga çdo anë..
                                          çka më siguron se kam rënë në pleqërinë e thellë
                                          duke menduar shkrimin e Kujtimeve
                                          më vjen për të qarë 
                                          që padashur edhe vetë..
                                          do ti dorëzohem Mëshirës Kristiane
                                          dhe nuk do të mund të jem dorëlëshuar 
                                          në përdorimin e Ironisë dhe Sarkazmës
                                          për të lënë të kuptohet 
                                          se Vepra ime do të përbaltet 
                                          sidomos kur do të vlerësohet 
                                          nga injoranca e Spanjës dhe e Botës.
                                               
                

Monday, May 11, 2015

ODYSSEUS Poem by ILIAS FOUKIS







ODYSSEUS


 



As I did my tour of the World
there was this island on the other side of the Caribbean current
that when it saw all the travelers
without any gift
for great discoveries
it did not suffer any geographical reformation
but in a completely schematic sense
reminded me of Ithaca...


 
The Island was far enough away
to make me doubt for yet one more time
Penelope’s devotion...
that she may have once more dishonored Greece
philandering with those defeated at Troy
and amplifying their Fantasy
that they were vanquishing her body...
what I’m saying is the Greek army would have failed
in demeaning her Happiness
which might have brought down the Soul of Greece.


(And just so you know...
If something like that should
happen...then the Eternal Man
that Philosophy dreamed of in Athens
can be forgotten once and for all...)


Despite all that at such moments
it is not worth wasting Divine Breath
on such insignificant things
because that was the period on Olympus
where a disillusionment without precedent was perpetuated
regarding the failure of Universal Reason
when Women were found in its Essence.



And now when I see the Palms on the Island swaying
I remember the Islands of Greece
and when we set out for Troy
how simple-minded we were not understanding
that punishing mercilessly those desires
which endowed the youth of Troy with such brilliance
with those narrow visions and parochialism's of ours
we came up with a good recipe
for heartache and Universal Catastrophe.


And asking forgiveness for that Fire
I see behind the backs of the Caribbean
Continent
with a turbulent present of frightened people...
and whether it comes into the World or not
all the currents of Human Thought will be drowned
in dispute...
and finally when they want to leave
a dignified inscription
on the tombs of the drowned
the autonomy of Continent will be defamed.


I in particular would be repudiated
I would become anathema for all lives
and the fact that immediately after the destruction of Troy
I was sent by the Greeks
in quest of New and Virgin lands...
then when the World had a growing suspicion
that the only work that went well
with this People
was plundering.



Much later other travelers would come
loaded down with Ghosts
and Mythological notebooks...
in which would be written that there never had been
a brilliant period of superstition
and as soon as they set foot on the Island
the minute these Wise Elders
attacked Continent ...
they would confirm that their thoughts had come to an end
having squandered them on overcoming currents.


Continent
would be taken aback by this misfortune
and would go against the Thinkers
and indeed quite often... would beseech God
to lay waste to the islands.


Someone in any case would lose
and while I have a presentiment even now
about this terrible defeat
I would like to issue a warning
to Apollo...
that the Ancient Mythologies
will no longer have a role to play.


So because of that...
when we met on the Island
and saw that as soon as the masts
on the ship fell...
the masts of the Ghosts were raised
we then observed a moment of silence
commemorating the drowning of Aristotle in the currents
of the Euripus
which had not yet occurred....