Petros Lygizos was born in Athens in 1966 and lives in Nafplion today. He is a teacher of Ancient and Modern Greek Literature and writes poetry and novels. Many poetic collections of him have been published: Galaxies of love 1998, Astypalaia 1999, Bloodied roses 2000 (editions Code), Music at kennels 2010, Eros Nafplios 2011, Lekythos with memories 2012 (editions Notios Anemos). Lekythos with memories was translated in English by Angelos Sakkis, during the 8th Symposium of American and Greek Poets in Athens, in 2013. Petros also wrote the published novels: The Muse 2001 (editions Dioni), Dreams on the hover 2012 and The final wind of the sea 2013 (editions Notios Anemos).
Petros Lygizos basic source of inspiration is the agony of modern people, the hidden thoughts that a person has, his forbidden dreams. Petros has also written many studies about the Greek Modern Literature: History of Greek Litterature 2001 (editions Savvalas) etc. Many poems of him are published in Greek magazines of poetry: Sodeia, Review of Litterature etc.
Poems below, a selection from:
with Memories
(2001 – 2006)
Instead of prologue
Now, I quit from this ambition and this is the reason I feel much better. I believe that this peace inside me, is the benefit I earnt from poetry. ”Lekythos with memories” was written five years ago, as I still felt the psychic intensity that caused my rout from a place I had really loved: Lygourio, near Epidaurus. This poem was the best way I found, in order to express my gratitude to the people who accepted me for five years in their lives. ”Lekythos”, was also the last salute that I directed with excitement, to all those I met during my fascinating stay in this beautiful place…
and you all who shared so many moments with me,
Thank You!
Nafplion, 2011
2
Memory now leaps
to the ground of Epidauria
—red poppies suit your voice—
I raise my eyes to weather
—night in one place, the moon somewhere else—
afterwards daybreak comes to the coffee shop
the bus arrives from the old life
and I
silent and motionless
listen to the encounters
I know I’m leaving
and a first tear forms
right at the edge of the eyelids.
7
And then next morning
the lady’s haste to get to the bakery
a cat stops next to me
I look at the sad street gutter
that can’t take any more rain
and on the opposite wall I draw
secretly and precisely
your outline
—It is already five to eight
the bell’s about to ring
I will proceed disobediently,
a winter stowaway.
9
I push the door latch.
I overcome the ferocious obstacle
and I discover you.
Here… in the land of Asclepius
alone in the monastery
weeping in a country chapel
midday in August.
Don’t be afraid of me.
For I—and you should know that—
can fashion wild rhythms
of gypsy violins
in the discordant night
and I can shape dreams
out of black and red.
16
We walk on the ancient path
over the wagon traces
and suddenly
I show you the hidden stars
we call on the eternal cup-bearer
he fills the lekythos with memories
we drink together and get drunk
we nurse the dream.
But it gets dark.
The city becomes deserted.
The vision stands still.
I talk to the statue in the square.
Luckily just in time
I was able to make my fear
spend the night with you.
18
Open your hands.
I’m leaving now.
But I’m keeping with me
the flight of the hawk
the figures behind the windows
the noon stillness
the cat in the coffee shop
the sky I’ve kept in my pocket.
And—look—
the lekythos with the memories.
Published with the permission of Petros Lygizos
© English translation by Angelos Sakkis