Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0
Geske

Τα κατά Μάρκον

20 posts in this topic

Edited November 2007: If you hit this topic looking for translations of the songs in Τα κατά Μάρκον, please refer to the new topics for each individual song.

I hate leaving inaccurate translations out in the world where they can create confusion, and very nearly deleted all those I posted below. But Nicolas would scold me and I suppose he's right when he says it's all part of the history of the forum...

Τα κατά Μαρκον.

Every time I put it on, it takes me by surprise all over again. It's so special, so strange, so different - and my mind can't seem to remember... and discovers it all over again every time.

It's impossible to make a worthy translation of these poems. So, what follows is not a translation. It's an attempt, by someone with maddeningly insufficient greek, to understand at least a tiny part of what they are about. Point out where I misunderstood and I will be embarrassingly grateful...

Here we go. Track one.

Ο ΧΟΡΟΣ ΤΩΝ ΚΥΚΛΑΔΩΝ | THE DANCE OF THE CYCLADES

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Σκοτεινό το τραγούδι που θα πω | Dark [is] the song I am going to sing

τα συντρίμμια του τόπου μου πατώ | the remnants of the land I walk

χαμένα αδέρφια ίσκιοι λαβωμένοι | lost brothers, wounded shades,

χαμένη Ελλάδα παντού σ' αναζητώ. | lost Greece, everywhere I look for you.

Των Κυκλάδων σταμάτησε ο χορός | The dance of the Cyclades has come to a standstill

πετρωμένο το κύμα κι ο καιρός | The wave [is] turned to stone, and the wind [too]

πάνω απ' τις μνήμες μάρμαρα σπασμένα | On top of the memories: smashed marbles.

πάνω άπ' τις στέγες ο άνεμος σκληρός. | Over the rooftops: the keen wind.

Παγερέ του αιώνα μου βοριά | Freezing North wind of my century

πού τα πήγες τ' αφτέρουγα παιδιά; | where are you taking them, the wingless children?

Τα πήρε ο ύπνος σε άχραντη πατρίδα | Sleep takes them into an unsullied homeland

τα πήρε η νύχτα στη μαύρη της καρδιά. | The night takes them into its black heart.

Της ζωής ποιος γνωρίζει το σκοπό; | Who knows the tune of life?

Το σκουλήκι τσακίζει τον καρπό. | The worm is destroying the fruit.

χαμένα αδέρφια δείχτε μου ένα δρόμο | Lost brothers, show me a road

χαμένη Ελλάδα την πόρτα σου χτυπώ | Lost Greece, I am knocking at your door.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I'd feel more comfortable if someone gave me some improvements for that first song...

For the translation of track 2, see Niki's excellent job in

http://www.dalaras.com/forum/index.php?act...2337e5c45bc21d5

For track 3, see soc's

http://www.dalaras.com/forum/index.php?act...2337e5c45bc21d5

(Less than a year ago... and I had not a clue... ok, maybe I still don't. But at least now I can hear it.)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Here we go for track 4.

Some help is really needed here. Please, someome? I'm not worth the trouble, but the song surely is...

ΟΙ ΠΡΩΤΟΙ ΚΑΙ ΟΙ ΔΕΥΤΕΡΟΙ | THE FIRST AND THE SECOND

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Στο χώμα τούτο το σκληρό | On this harsh land

που 'ναι η βροχή αγγέλων δάκρυ | where the rain is angels' tears

ποτέ δεν είχαμε νερό | we never had any water

κι αλαφιασμένοι σε μιαν άκρη | and in a panic, cornered,

αρχίζαμε μονομαχία | we started a single combat

με τα στοιχειά και τα στοιχεία. | with the elementals and the elements [or maybe: with the ghosts and the facts? or maybe something else altogether? ]

Έτσι περπάταγε η ζωή | Thus life goes its way

πότε στραβά και πότε ίσια | sometimes crooked sometimes straight

μέσ' απ' του κόσμου τη βουή | from the midst of the bustle of the world

να πάει γραμμή για τα Ηλύσια | let a trail lead to the Elysian Fields

μ' αίμα ραντίζοντας και σκόνη | sprinkling with blood and with dust

το παθιασμένο της βαγόνι. | its wagonload of passion.

Θεε μου γιατί γιατί γιατί | My God, why, why, why

κείνοι που σκύβουν το κεφάλι | [do] those who bow their head

και τεμενάδες κάνουν πάλι | and again make obeisance

στον τύραννο και στον προδότη | before the tyrant and the traitor

Θεε μου γιατί γιατί γιατί | my God, why, why, why

να 'ρχονται κείνοι πάντα πρώτοι | [do] those always come in first

κι εμείς οι αγνοί κι ελεύτεροι | and we, the pure and free

να 'μαστε πάντα δεύτεροι; | [why] must we always come in second?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Annette had an understanding for this verse, which I prefer to mine:

Έτσι περπάταγε η ζωή | Thus life went its way

πότε στραβά και πότε ίσια | sometimes crooked sometimes straight

μέσ' απ' του κόσμου τη βουή | from the midst of the bustle of the world

να πάει γραμμή για τα Ηλύσια | to trace a trail to the Elysian Fields

μ' αίμα ραντίζοντας και σκόνη | sprinkling with blood and with dust

το παθιασμένο της βαγόνι. | its passionate wagonload .

Merci!

I'm also making French translations of these poems, will post them after we get the English ones complete.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

For track 5, I had some valuable - in fact, indispensable - help from Apostolis and Nikolas. They didn't check all of it though, so there will be plenty of my mistakes still in there. However... here we go, for as brilliant a piece of political sarcasm as you could wish to find anywhere.

ΤΑ ΓΕΡΟΝΤΙΑ | THE ANCIENT ONES

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Μ' ένα μάτι μ' ένα δόντι | With one eye, with one tooth

με βαμμένα τα μαλλιά | with dyed hair

σκαρφαλώσαν οι γερόντοι | the ancient ones shuffle [up and down]

στης πατρίδας τα σκαλιά. | the stairs of the Country.

Καθώς παν για τα ογδόντα | As soon as they pass eighty [years]

ίδιοι και παράλληλοι | identical and parallel

το πολύ για καμιά τσόντα | for some commercial at most

είναι πια κατάλληλοι. | they are still suitable.

Μα για να σωθεί η Ελλάδα | But for Ellas to be saved

στους καιρούς τους ύστατους | at the last [possible] times

βρείτε κάπου έναν καιάδα | find somewhere a Kaïada *

και γκρεμοτσακίστε τους | and let them drop off the cliff

Μας φλομώσαν οι παππούδες | They smother us, the granddaddies,

με ψευτιές και φούμαρα | with lies and smokescreens

λες και είμαστε αλεπούδες | supposing we are [like] foxes

που μασάνε κούμαρα | smelling arbutus **

Τότε θα 'ρθουν άλλα χρόνια | Then other times will arrive

μ' όνειρα κι οράματα | with dreams and visions

δίχως λόγους στα μπαλκόνια | without speeches on balconies

κι ανθιστά προγράμματα | and blooming programmes.

Μα για να σωθεί η Ελλάδα | But for Ellas to be saved

στους καιρούς τους ύστατους | at the last [possible] times

βρείτε κάπου έναν καιάδα | find somewhere a Kaïada

και γκρεμοτσακίστε τους | and let them drop off the cliff

βρείτε κάπου έναν καιάδα | find somewhere a Kaïada

και γκρεμοτσακίστε τους | and let them drop off the cliff

* Kaiada: the ravine in the Taygetes mountains into which the ancient Spartans threw their weakling or otherwise unfit new-born children.

** The arbutus is a tree whose berries have a flavour like aniseed (yes, the stuff they put in ouzo). A bag of aniseed is used as a lure in fox hunting.

Hearfelt thanks to Apostolis and Nikolas for spending time on this, when they seriously had their own troubles to think about.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

There is nothing like translations to improve your general knowledge !

Warning : this is a botinanical digressionI recommend you just skip this post if you are bored by the subject !!

I couldn't believe my eyes when I read this : arbutus berries with aniseed flavour !

As children, we couldn't resist picking them, they are so beautiful, so much like strawberries , November strawberries too! In fact, we found them rather tasteless and sour.

The berries were used to make a sort of liquor which I never tasted and rather uninteresting jams, we were told were excellent for our health - I can't remember any anis flavour !

I quickly took out G. Sifkas book on the wild trees of Greece, this matter had to be cleared up !

According to Mr. Sifkas there are two types of Arbutus in Greece : the first (Arbutus unedo) is the one I know, it is also called Strawbery tree. The second is called Greek Arbutus (Arbutus andrachne).

There is no mention of flavours.

This is a little disppointing but very likely the Greek Arbutus is the one with anis flavoured berries !

Thanks a lot, I'm always happy to learn something new.

I didn't think anything could be added to my keen appreciation of a song - and cd - I listen to at least once a week, I was greatly mistaken.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Annette, I knew I could count on you!!!

You know, I've been on the point of mailing you to ask you to rummage in your botanical reference works and find me this berry, as my dictionary is as vague on it as dictionaries generally are about botanical detail.

But then Apostolis found me the botanical name of the thing, and then Nikolas came and I asked him 'does that stuff smell of aniseed by any chance?' - which was a leading question, prompted by that "fox" in the other line, and what I know about english fox hunting... and Nikolas says some people use the stuff to flavour tsipouro.... and I took his word for it without hesitation, as I would for anything pertaining to food and drink.

Hence the footnote...

And don't let's apologize for the botanico-gastronomical digressions :( This is all part of "greeking" , isn't it?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I must admit I am a little disappointed to get so little help with these songs. Don't give me any blurb about the translations being ok as they are - I know who made them, hey! But well, many people don't seem to like this strange record very much...

Anyway, here comes the next installment.

It's not so much difficult, as delicate. First I had put the title as "One language, one fatherland" - but it turned out, to my relief, that this was not what the poet was talking about. A least, as far as I understand: not a matter of loving one's own country to the exclusion of any other, but a matter of taking comfort from one's roots in this strange vast world where we swim around like fish in the sky. But maybe I understand all wrong... tell me!

ΜΙΑ ΓΛΩΣΣΑ ΜΙΑ ΠΑΤΡΙΔΑ | A TONGUE, A HOMELAND

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Μια χούφτα είν' ο άνθρωπος | A human being is one measure

από στυφό προζύμι | of bitter yeast,

γεννιέται σαν αρχάγγελος | born like an archangel

πεθαίνει σαν αγρίμι | dying like a wild beast.

Του μένει μόνο στη ζωή | To him is left, in life,

μια γλώσσα μια πατρίδα | [only] a tongue, a homeland,

η πρώτη του παρηγοριά | his first consolation

και η στερνή του ελπίδα | and his last hope.

Όλο το βιός κι η προίκα | All his belongings and his fortune

του ένας καημός στα στήθια | [are] a pain in his breast

κι ο τόπος που τον γέννησε | and the place which gave him birth

η δυνατή του αλήθεια | [is] his powerful truth.

Για δέστε κείνο το παιδί | Look at that child

με τα γερά τα χέρια | with his strong arms

πώς οδηγεί τ'αδέρφια | how he guides his brothers

του ν'ανέβουν ως τ'αστέρια | to reach up to the stars

Κι απ' τα βουνά της Ρούμελης | And from the mountains of Roumeli

και τα νησιά του νότου | and the islands of the South

ένας πανάρχαιος παππούς | an ancient grandfather

κοιτάει τον εγγονό του | is watching his grandson.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Gazakas is out for an hour... and hop! Here is the next installment!

:)

This song is a brilliant piece of poetry but I'm not at all sure I understand it. Well, it's beautiful anyhow, and as for the meaning - the pleasure is in trying, isn't it?

φίλε, ακού....

ΠΙΣΩ ΑΠΟ ΜΑΥΡΑ ΣΙΔΕΡΑ | BEHIND BLACK IRON BARS

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Αγέρηδες χτυπήσανε | The winds knocked

τις φαγωμένες πόρτες | at the frozen doors

κι εκείνοι που αγαπήσανε | and those who once loved

μονάχοι κόβουν βόλτες | all alone, take short turns

πίσω από μαύρα σίδερα | behind black iron bars

που σιγοβράζουν σήμερα | where today they are slowly seething.

Αλί αλί και τρισαλί | Alas, alas, three times alas,

Ελλάδα μάνα μου τρελή | Greece, my mad mother

φέρε μου απόψε στο κελί | bring to me tonight in the cell of the condemned

καπνό φιτίλι και ρακί | a smoke, a light * and a raki

και δυναμίτη παρακεί | and some juice** besides

να γίνει στάχτη η φυλακή | to make ashes of the prison

Αγάπη όσοι σε πίστεψαν | [My] love! All those who believed in you

κακό της κεφαλής τους | [it was] wrong-headed of them

μα κι όσους δε σε πίστεψαν | but also, all those who had no [blind] faith,

απ' τα δεσμά τους λύσ' τους | release them from their bonds

να ξαναβρούν το δρόμο τους | so that they may find their road again

με το μηδέν για νόμο τους | with the nought*** as their governing law.

Αλί αλί και τρισαλί | Alas, alas, three times alas,

Ελλάδα μάνα μου τρελή | Greece, my mad mother

φέρε μου απόψε στο κελί | bring to me tonight in the cell of the condemned

καπνό φιτίλι και ρακί | a smoke, a light * and a raki

και δυναμίτη παρακεί | and some juice** besides

να γίνει στάχτη η φυλακή | to make ashes of the prison

* Whether to light the cigarette or the bomb is ambiguous.

**like δυναμίτη in Greek, 'juice' may mean high explosive, or bad strong drink, or both.

*** The nought, or zero: zero law = anarchy, it seems. I'm not thinking of the brainless bomb-throwing sort, but of the 'personal responsibility instead of authority' sort. But I may be utterly mistaking Gatsos' meaning.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Geeske, in his collection of poems, Hadjidakis wrote "MORALITE ZERO" (en francais dans le texte). Hadjidakis was a very close friend to Gatsos. I hope this may help you... :)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Skipping track 8, which is not sung by Dalaras (but I'll do it too, the song deserves it)... here is track 9.

ΤΟΥΤΟΣ Ο ΤΟΠΟΣ | THAT PLACE, THERE

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Τούτος ο τόπος είν' ένας μύθος | That place, there, it is a myth

από χρώμα και φως | [made] from colour and light

ένας μύθος κρυφός | a hidden myth

με τον κόσμο του ήλιου δεμένος. | bound with the world of the sun.

Καθ' αυγή ξεκινά | Every dawn I rose

ν' ανταμώσει ξανά | to meet again

το δικό του αθάνατο γένος. | its own deathless kindred.

Τούτος ο τόπος είν' ένας κήπος | That place, there, it is a garden

με κλαμένα παιδιά | with children in tears

στη γαλάζια ποδιά | at the blue feet

κάποιας μάνας για πάντα χαμένης | of some mother forever lost

που συντρόφοι ορφανοί | whom the orphan company

καρτερούν να φανεί | are waiting to

στο κατώφλι μίας πόρτας κλεισμένης. | on the threshold of a locked door.

Τούτος ο τόπος είν' ένας βράχος | That place, there, it's a cliff

σα σπαθί κοφτερός | like a sharp sword

που σοφός ο καιρός | which time in its wisdom

θα τον κάνει τραγούδι μια μέρα | will turn into a song one day

και θα 'ρθουν εποχές | and the times will return

που οι φτωχές μας ψυχές | when our miserable souls

το σκοπό του θ' ακούν στον αγέρα. | will hear its song on the air.

(I've edited right into this post the corrections Annette gave me in a PM - she spotted all the places where I was too lazy to check a word in the dictionary, also where I read to quickly and was careless... thank you Annette!)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Last track of the record.

Not the least... oh, no. I guess, if there still are poets left by that time (and if there are, anywhere, it will be in Greece) - they will write songs like this about Dalaras after he's dead.

ΓΡΑΜΜΑ ΣΤΟ ΜΑΡΚΟ ΒΑΜΒΑΚΑΡΗ | LETTER TO MARCOS VAMVAKARIS

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris,

καραβοκύρη Συριανέ | you Syrian shipmaster you,

που άνοιγες δρόμο στο φεγγάρι | who opens the way to the moon

κι έλεγες δύσκολα το ναι | and speaks the "yes" with difficulty.

Είχες δικό σου μπαϊράκι | You have your very own banner

στου Πειραιά την αγορά | [flying] over the marketplace of Piraias

και συντροφιά σου τ' αεράκι | and for your company [you have] the breeze

απ' της Ψυττάλειας τα νερά | from the waters of Psyttaleias.

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris

της μοναξιάς μας ουρανέ | heaven of our solitude.

’στρα το στόμα σου γεμάτο | With stars your mouth [is] filled

κι η αλφαβήτα σου μισή | and half your alphabet

όμως τα πάνω έφερνες κάτω | but you put on top what was below

έτσι όπως ήξερες εσύ | just the way you know how.

Κι εμείς λιθάρι το λιθάρι | And we, stone on stone,

με την αγάπη στην καρδιά | with that love inside the heart,

σου χτίσαμε προσκυνητάρι | we build you a little limelight

να σε δοξάζουν τα παιδιά | so that the kids may pay homage to you

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris,

μεγάλε και παντοτινέ | you great one, forever and ever.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Annette has been helping out again, so here is a revised version. Still some bits missing though... I've marked the bits where I don't really know the meaning with ???. Hoping for a helping hand.

ΓΡΑΜΜΑ ΣΤΟ ΜΑΡΚΟ ΒΑΜΒΑΚΑΡΗ | LETTER TO MARCOS VAMVAKARIS

Μουσική: Σταύρος Ξαρχάκος | Music: Stavros Xarchakos

Στίχοι: Νίκος Γκάτσος | Lyrics: Nikos Gatsos

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris,

καραβοκύρη Συριανέ | you Syrian shipmaster you,

που άνοιγες δρόμο στο φεγγάρι | who opens the way to the moon

κι έλεγες δύσκολα το ναι | and who always had trouble saying "yes" .

Είχες δικό σου μπαϊράκι | You have your very own banner

στου Πειραιά την αγορά | [flying] over the marketplace of Piraias

και συντροφιά σου τ' αεράκι | and for your company [you have] the breeze

απ' της Ψυττάλειας τα νερά | from the waters of Psyttaleias.

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris

της μοναξιάς μας ουρανέ | heaven of our solitude.

’στρα το στόμα σου γεμάτο | With stars your mouth [is] filled

κι η αλφαβήτα σου μισή | ????and half your alphabet

όμως τα πάνω έφερνες κάτω | but you put on top what was below

έτσι όπως ήξερες εσύ | just the way you knew how.

Κι εμείς λιθάρι το λιθάρι | And we, ???stone on stone,

με την αγάπη στην καρδιά | with that love inside the heart,

σου χτίσαμε προσκυνητάρι | we build you a little ???shrine

να σε δοξάζουν τα παιδιά | so that the kids may pay homage to you

Γεια σου ρε Μάρκο Βαμβακάρη | Hello to you, hey, Marcos Vamvakaris,

μεγάλε και παντοτινέ | you great one, forever and ever.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Κι εμείς λιθάρι το λιθάρι | And we, stone by stone from nothing,

με την αγάπη στην καρδιά | with that love inside the heart,

σου χτίσαμε προσκυνητάρι | we build you a little shrine

να σε δοξάζουν τα παιδιά | so that the kids may pay homage to you

another piece of the puzzle. Thank you soc.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Proofreading this, I saw, in the album details, that it's a live recording.

LIVE

My mouth fell open.

if you've listened to it you'll know why - it's quite possibly the most difficult piece of music I've heard him sing - and it's perfect...

(Unlike that damned translation - it'll never be right).

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I've just tried it, it works fine here. It may be a problem with your browser. If so, I am not expert enough to help you :)

I will send you the file by email instead.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest
You are commenting as a guest. If you have an account, please sign in.
Reply to this topic...

×   You have pasted content with formatting.   Remove formatting

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

Loading...
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0