October 2025 - transpolia

Each night, ⋮ tears.

Each night, we kindle the fire, simmer the still,
and grind only the finest aromatics by hand,
with marble mortar and pestle:
star anise, cardamom and fennel seeds,
mastíkha resin tears…

Tásso Trikené, taken from a handwritten recipe for OUZO Trikené,
found inside his old wooden desk and dating back to 1932

Το βράδυ τσούζουμε τη φωτιά.
Σπάζουμε στη γκραφιά,
στο γουδοχέρι σα να λέμε,
σπόρια από εκλεκτό αστεροειδή,
κάρδαμο, μάραθο, μαστίχι…

Translated for (and taken from) the Distillery Trikené website.

The copper still simmers through the night and the sparkling spirit slowly distills, drop by precious drop.

By morning, the Sacred City of Messolónghi is fragrant with the sweet smell of aniseed.

A life ⋮ forever here.

A life without surprises.
Just the same old (dull) same old…
A life that’s like a film
you’ve seen before
(no twists, no turns).
Like a week that never ends,
a week without weekends…

But my darling love when I am with you,
I’m up high in seventh heaven,
somewhere in among the stars,
nestled tightly in your arms
like a sparrow in its nest,
and well there’s nothing more I need,
no, there’s nothing more I want –
oh God, how hard I love you! –
and as my eyelids flicker closed
I pray that I can stay
forever here…

Lyrics from the song “High in Seventh Heaven”
by Déspina Vandí (2004)

Μια ζωή δίχως εκπλήξεις,
βαρετή μ’ επαναλήψεις.
Μια ζωή ταινία που έχεις δει
δίχως ανατροπές.
Βδομάδα δίχως Σάββατα και Κυριακές.

Μα όταν ειμ’ αγάπη μου μαζί σου
στην αυλή του παραδείσου,
κάπου ανάμεσα στ’ αστέρια
στη φωλιά απ’ τα δυο σου χέρια
και κουρνιάζω σαν σπουργίτι,
τίποτ’ άλλο δε μου λείπει,
τίποτ’ άλλο δε ζητάω,
Θέε μου πόσο σ’ αγαπάω
και τα βλέφαρά μου κλείνω
και προσεύχομαι να μείνω
για πάντα εδώ…

Music and lyrics by Phoebus.

Translated for (and taken from) the subtitles for the feature film The Miracle of the Sargasso Sea by Syllas Tzoumerkas (2019).

arkhæio
THE MIRACLE OF THE SARGASSO SEA

An earthquake ⋮ himself.

An earthquake so great…
(What’s that?)
…shook the jail hard, to its foundations.
(The boy’s a bible basher!)
Flung open every door.
Broke every inmate’s chains.
And when the warden woke
to find every cell door open,
he drew his sword,
seeking (…desiring…) to kill himself.

Dialogue from the feature film The Miracle of the Sargasso Sea (2019)
directed by Syllas Tzoumerkas

Έγινε σεισμός μεγάλος…
(Τί λες;)
Τόσο μεγάλος που κουνήθηκαν τα θεμέλια της φυλακής.
(Είναι της Θεολογικής το παιδί!)
Κι άνοιξαν οι πόρτες.
Και τα δεσμά των φυλακισμένων λύθηκαν.
Κι όταν ο φύλακας ξύπνησε,
κι όταν είδε τις πόρτες της φυλακής ανοιχτές,
έβγαλε το σπαθί του
και γύρευε να σκοτωθεί.

Screenplay by Syllas Tzoumerkas and Youla Boudali.

This dialogue is a reworking of a biblical text that appears in the New Testament (Acts of the Apostles 16:26–27):

And suddenly there was a great earthquake,
so that the foundations of the prison were shaken:
and immediately all the doors were opened,
and every one’s bands were loosed.
And the keeper of the prison awaking out of his sleep,
and seeing the prison doors open,
he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself,
supposing that the prisoners had been fled.
(King James Bible)

Translated for (and taken from) the subtitles for the feature film The Miracle of the Sargasso Sea by Syllas Tzoumerkas (2019).

arkhæio
THE MIRACLE OF THE SARGASSO SEA

What ⋮ everyone will say.

What was I ever to you?
What were you ever to me?
The time has come for us to face the facts.
For love I lost my mind (just me),
for you I wrecked my life.
You’ll see – that’s what everyone will say.

Lyrics from the song “What Was I Ever to You?”
by Antónis Rémos (1996)

Τι ήμουνα για σένανε;
Τι ήσουνα για μένανε;
Καιρός λοιπόν για να λογαριαστούμε.
Μονάχα εγώ τρελάθηκα,
για σένα καταστράφηκα.
Να δεις που όλοι θα πούνε…

Music and lyrics by Phoebus.

Translated for (and taken from) the subtitles for the feature film The Miracle of the Sargasso Sea by Syllas Tzoumerkas (2019).

arkhæio
THE MIRACLE OF THE SARGASSO SEA

Don’t ⋮ bare, bereft.

Don’t try to build some nest
in the ruins of our home.
Your tears will go to waste –
they can’t bring back what’s gone.

Now you love me? Now’s too late.
Never again can your tears remake
our ruined home, our broken nest –
our lives left bare, bereft.

If some night you come
by the ruins of our home,
you’ll find me wild with grief
in a garden overgrown.

Now you love me? Now’s too late.
Never again can your tears remake
our ruined home, our broken nest –
our lives left bare, bereft.

Lyrics from the Greek song “Now you love me? Now’s too late”
first performed by Marinella in 1965

Στο σπίτι μας το γκρεμισμένο
μη θες να στήσεις τη φωλιά.
Θα πάει το δάκρυ σου χαμένο –
δεν ζωντανεύουν τα παλιά.

Αν μ’ αγαπάς είναι αργά.
Μην περιμένεις ξανά
να ζωντανέψεις με δάκρυ
την γκρεμισμένη φωλιά.

Στο σπίτι μας το γκρεμισμένο
σαν έρθεις κάποιο δειλινό
Θα βρεις τον κήπο μαραμένο
και μένα κάπου να θρηνώ.

Αν μ’ αγαπάς είναι αργά.
Μην περιμένεις ξανά
να ζωντανέψεις με δάκρυ
την γκρεμισμένη φωλιά.

The lyrics are by Pythagóras, the music by Vassílis Vassiliádes.

Translated for (and taken from) the texts of The Walk by Euripides Laskaridis.

see also
(this transpolium lives alone)

The things ⋮ now behind.

The things we know we knew
are now behind.

Tagline written for the development and promotion of Elenit,
a stage work by Euripides Laskaridis

Τα πράγματα που ξέρουμε πως κάποτε γνωρίζαμε
είναι πίσω μας πια.

Written directly in English after a conversation (in Greek) with Euripides
– a translation (of mine) of what his still-emerging new work felt like (for him).

Elenit premièred in 2020. This tagline also appeared in the video work Here Not Here (2021).

see also
(this transpolium lives alone)

arkhæio
HERE NOT HERE

Inside ⋮ its warm embrace.

Inside the penguin constellation
beside a very little fire
we’re sat in two knit beanies
playing games with bits of ice
from back when we were young.

Yesterday, we ran away from home.
Now the frozen lake lies all around us.

Hush, don’t cry…
Kaleidoscope-like, the cosmos is unfurling
in shattered colours, luminous glass shards.
Just say the word
and this night will be made a spaceship
lit bright by our secrets.

Inside the penguin constellation
in the silence of deep space
we count out dying comets
and night-echoes rising from dark planet Earth…

…that creaks away on giant cogs
with churches for invisible gods
and all around are killers and the dead
with armies, jails, insane asylums
and acts of love transacted –
but don’t you fear, we two are here.

Inside the penguin constellation
beside a very little fire
we’re sat in two knit beanies
playing games with bits of ice
from back when we were young.

Our old lives now are scattered away
and what tomorrow brings no-one can say.

Hush, don’t cry…
Tonight we’re lost in space so vast
but you and I will be each other’s nest.
Just say the word and the white bear
will come to us at midnight
and gather us two up, tight in its warm embrace…

Lyrics of the song “Inside the Penguin Constellation”
by Lena Platonos & Marianina Kriezi (1981)

Στον αστερισμό του πιγκουίνου
πλάι σε μια μικρή μικρή φωτιά
καθόμαστε με δυο πλεχτά σκουφάκια
και παίζουμε παιχνίδια με παγάκια
των καιρών που ήμασταν παιδιά.

Το σκάσαμε απ’ τα σπίτια μας εχτές
τώρα γύρω μας η παγωμένη λίμνη.

Σώπα, μην κλαις…
Ο κόσμος ανοίγει σαν καλειδοσκόπιο
με χρώματα σπασμένα, γυαλιά φωσφορικά
μια λέξη πες
κι η νύχτα θα γίνει ένα διαστημόπλοιο
φωτισμένο απ’ τα δικά μας μυστικά.

Στον αστερισμό του πιγκουίνου
μέσα σε μια σιωπή διαστημική
μετράμε τους κομήτες που πεθαίνουν
κι απόηχοι της νύχτας που ανεβαίνουν απ’ το σκοτεινό πλανήτη Γη…

…που τρίζει πάνω σε γιγάντιους τροχούς
με ναούς για τους αόρατους θεούς
και γύρω γύρω δολοφόνους και νεκρούς
με στρατούς, ψυχιατρεία, φυλακές
και την αγάπη σε συναλλαγματικές
μα μη φοβάσαι εμείς οι δυο είμαστε εδώ

Στον αστερισμό του πιγκουίνου
πλάι σε μια μικρή μικρή φωτιά
καθόμαστε με δυο πλεκτά σκουφάκια
και παίζουμε παιχνίδια με παγάκια
των καιρών που ήμασταν παιδιά.

Σκορπίσαν οι παλιές μας οι ζωές
και το αύριο κανένας δεν το ξέρει.

Σώπα, μην κλαις…
απόψε χαμένοι στο μεγάλο διάστημα
ο ένας για τον άλλο θα γίνουμε φωλιά
μια λέξη πες
κι η άσπρη αρκούδα θά ’ρθει τα μεσάνυχτα
να μας πάρει στη ζεστή της αγκαλιά…

Translated for (and taken from) a screenplay titled Northpole written by Yannis Veslemes.

The film (currently in development) is being produced by Fenia Cossovitsa.

see also
(this transpolium lives alone)

Let me ⋮ never come.

Let me go see with mine own eyes
how my beloved spends his time.
Might he have found some other love
and left me all alone?

Who was it told you that, my little sapling?
Who said I love you not, my little hatchling?
Was it the sun afar? It shall not rise again.
And so the morning star shall never come.

Lyrics from a traditional Greek folk song
of the Peloponnese

Ας πα’ να δουν τα μάτια μου
πώς τα περνά η αγάπη μου.
Μην’ ηύρ’ αλλού κι αγάπησε
και μένα μ’ απαράτησε;

Ποιος σ’ το ’πε, δεντρουλάκι μου,
δε σ’ αγαπώ, πουλί, πουλάκι μου;
Κι αν σ’ το ’πε ο ήλιος να μη βγει,
τ’ αστρί να μην ξημερωθεί.

Translated for (and taken from) the script for a pilot episode of the tee-vee series Antigone’s Son, written by Adam Adamopoulos and Spiros Krimbalis.

see also
(this transpolium lives alone)

This here ⋮ (from Brazil.)

This here mambo brasileiro
makes me happy, makes me chill,
makes me true-blue brasileiro
this here mambo– (from Brazil.)

Lyrics from the song “Mambo Brasileiro” (1954)
performed by Sperántza Vraná & Trio Kitára

Αυτό το μάμπο μπραζιλέρο
μου δίνει κέφι, μου δίνει στυλ
και Βραζιλιάνο με κάνει βέρο
αυτό το μάμπο– (απ’ το Μπραζίλ.)

Song written by Yorgos Mouzakis, with lyrics by Kostas Pretenteris and Yorgos Economides, for the 1954 comedy feature I Oréa ton Athinón (The Belle of Athens).

Taken from a short scene (see below) that features in Scenes by Efthimis Filippou, translated from the Greek to appear in the English-language Noon collection first published in 2022.

STREET, VERY EARLY MORNING.

A girl rides a bike with stabilisers, singing a song under her breath. She falls and hurts her left knee. She wipes away the blood with the palm of her hand. She gets back on the bike and continues on her way.

(One imagines “from Brazil” cut off when the girl takes a tumble.)

arkhæio
NOON SCENES

dubitanda
coldness ⋮ complexity constantly ⋮ faithful documents ⋮ inaccurate

Noon ⋮ lies ahead.

Noon is a bright and gentle time
when half the day still lies ahead.

Logline written for the NOON book collection
featuring six works by Efthimis Filippou (in English translation)

A Greek version only exists somewhere inside Efthimis’ head.

Written directly in English after a conversation (in Greek) with Efthimis
– a translation (of mine) of what noontime feels like (for him).

First published in 2022 as part of the Noon book collection.

arkhæio
NOON

dubitanda

coldness ⋮ complexity constantly ⋮ faithful documents ⋮ inaccurate

For better or ⋮ return.

For better or worse, it really was too late:
the poet had already set off down his lonely path,
never to return.

Yannis Soldatos on the filmmaker Takis Kanellopoulos,
concerning the release of his 1969 film Kastoria

Ευτυχώς ή δυστυχώς, είναι ήδη αργά:
ο ποιητής έχει πάρει ήδη τον μοναχικό του δρόμο
και δεν γυρίζει πίσω.

Soldatos noted this in his essay “Love and Death, Companions Everlasting…” written for the 1997 catalogue of the 38th Thessaloniki Film Festival (TIFF38) catalogue titled Takis Kanellopoulos.

Translated for (and taken from) an essay titled “Place Regained: On Takis Kanellopoulos’ Kastoria” written in 2025 by Manolis Kranakis for Blueprints, the Non Catalog of the 27th Thessaloniki Documentary Festival (TiDF27).

The Takis Kanellopoulos film Kastoria formed part of a TiDF27 tribute titled “Geography of the Gaze: Greece Off-Plan (1950–2000)”.

arkhæio
BLUEPRINTS

And ⋮ the land.

and come dawn
all shall return to their toils,
back to the land

Takis Kanellopoulos, from the narration of his 1960 film Macedonian Wedding

και σαν ξημερώσει
όλοι θα γυρίσουν στις δουλειές τους,
πίσω στη γη

Translated for (and taken from) an essay titled “In Transition” written in 2025 by Eleni Androutsopoulou for Blueprints, the Non Catalog of the 27th Thessaloniki Documentary Festival (TiDF27).

The Takis Kanellopoulos film Macedonian Wedding formed part of a TiDF27 tribute titled “Geography of the Gaze: Greece Off-Plan (1950–2000)”.

arkhæio
BLUEPRINTS

The difference ⋮ is absurdity.

the difference between
a computer and people
is absurdity

Matheo Yamalakis, heard in his 1978 film On a Little Greek Island

η διαφορά ανάμεσα
σ’ έναν ηλεκτρονικό υπολογιστή και στους ανθρώπους
είναι ο παραλογισμός

Translated for (and taken from) a film synopsis written in 2025 by Manolis Kranakis and Yannis Palavos for Blueprints, the Non Catalog of the 27th Thessaloniki Documentary Festival (TiDF27).

The film formed part of a tribute titled “Geography of the Gaze: Greece Off-Plan (1950–2000)”.

arkhæio
BLUEPRINTS