transpolia (fragments re-set)

TRANSPOLIA dot com houses SPOLIA – elements transplanted from their original contexts into new structures. Fragments found when TRANSlating for others. Disparate texts discovered inside disparate texts, pulled out and placed here. Imbued with traces of their origins, in this space they are (together) new.

This place of ours is ⋮ sky.

This place of ours is closed, entirely mountains
capped over night and day by a low sky

A pulsing luminous donut shape made of a many moving particles

George Seferis, from the poem “Mythistorema” (a kind of “mythic-history”), part 10 (1935)

Ο τόπος μας είναι κλειστός όλο βουνά
που έχουν σκεπή το χαμηλό ουρανό μέρα και νύχτα

George Seferis was awarded the 1963 Nobel Prize in Literature.

Taken from the essay titled “From Space to Place: Tracing Geographies of Coexistence” written by Orestis Andreadakis for the Thessaloniki International Film Festival publication Reflections.
 

see also
Look now ⋮ and grow tame.
 

arkhæio
REFLECTIONS

Today ⋮ forever more.

Today is the final day.
Soon there will be night and only night
forever more.

A pulsing luminous donut shape made of a many moving particles

Yorgos Himonas, words spoken by Medea,
from his 1989 version of the Euripides play

Αὐτὴ εἶναι ἡ τελευταία μέρα.
Θὰ νυχτώσει καὶ θὰ εἶναι πιὰ
γιὰ πάντα νύχτα.

Translated for and taken from the 2008 printed programme created for the stage work Medea(2) by Dimitris Papaioannou.

In this piece, at its end, a triumphant, bare-chested Medea swings and smashes a dangling bulb over Jason’s head, plunging him (and the audience) into darkness.

Himonas beautifully conjured this line from his own imagination – nothing like it appears in the original Ancient Greek text by Euripides (dating to 431 BCE).
 

see also
Betrayal comes from ⋮ another.
The catharsis ⋮ of proportion.
 

arkhæio
MEDEA (TO THE POWER OF) TWO MEDEA MANUAL A (FOR ATHENS)
 
dubitanda
enters ⋮ darkness fundamental ⋮ measure

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.

A pulsing luminous donut shape made of a many moving particles

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).
 

see also
A life ⋮ forever here.
An earthquake ⋮ himself.
 

arkhæio
THE MIRACLE OF THE SARGASSO SEA

Words ⋮ seem unrecognisable.

Words attract or repel or are indifferent, just like people. Everything depends on the quality of the encounter. […] A text crackles with the electricity produced by words on their “escapades” (erotic in nature). […] Whoever knows not how to conjure such encounters, to exploit that is (and in fact to reveal) the eroticism of words, knows not how to write. To write is to know how to make words seem unrecognisable.

A pulsing luminous donut shape made of a many moving particles

Yorgos Maniatis, from his 1971 book
King Midas Has Ass’s Ears

Οἱ λέξεις ἕλκονται ἢ ἀπωθοῦνται ἢ αδιαφορούν, τὸ ἴδιο ὅπως οἱ ἄνθρωποι. Ἐξαρτᾶται ἀπὸ τὴν ποιότητα τῆς συναντήσεως. […] Ἕνα κείμενο σπινθηροβολεῖ ἀπὸ τὸν ἠλεκτρισμὸ ποὺ παράγουν οἱ λέξεις στὶς «περιπέτειές» τους (ἐρωτικοῦ χαρακτήρα). […] Ὅποιος δὲν ξέρει νὰ ἐπινοεῖ τέτοιες συναντήσεις, νὰ ἐκμεταλλεύεται δηλαδὴ (καὶ μάλιστα νὰ ἀποκαλύπτει) τὸν ἐρωτισμὸ τῶν λέξεων, δὲν ξέρει νὰ γράφει. Γράφει, ὅποιος ξέρει νὰ κάνει τὶς λέξεις νὰ γίνονται ἀγνώριστες.

Yorgos Maniatis (1939–2018) first published his book Midas Has Ass’s Ears [O Mídas Vassiliás Ékhi Aftiá Gaidárou] in 1972 (Athens: Kedros Books). These lines appear in footnote number twelve of the third edition published in 2018 (Athens: Stigmi Books, pp. 26–27) with its cover back-to-front – this was intentional.

Translated for (and taken from) an essay titled “Everything Depends on the Quality of the Encounter” that the documentary filmmaker Stavros Psillakis wrote for the Thessaloniki Documentary Festival publication On the Threshold (TiDF25).

The commissioned translation was not used in full.
 

see also
A mutilated ⋮ death.
All that I ⋮ back.
Like ⋮ the smell of earth.
Rose-like ⋮ all the flowers.
 

arkhæio
ON THE THRESHOLD