Εἰς τὸν θάνατον τοῦ Λόρδου Μπάιρον
Διονύσιος Σολωμός (1798–1857), 1825
Solomos turns Byron's death into a lament for Greece: the poet as freedom's herald, sung in the ragged, luxurious Greek that literature forgot. A grave, lyrical lament that moves between mourning and defiant freedom, with a slow, chant-like pace and an archaic voice.
Feels like melancholy, awe and longing. About freedom, death and war.
Who it’s for
You may like it if you enjoy political elegies, choral images of dance and war, and Greek poetry that wears its history openly. Because it was left unfinished and unpublished, expect a fragmentary lament rather than a complete narrative, and a dense, songlike Greek that asks for patience.
Why read it
Read it for the way private grief and public freedom meet in choral song, and for an early Solomos writing Greece into Byron's death.
Pages from the book
The dance of Zalongo: a whole company of women leaping from the cliff.
Τὲς ἐμάζωξε εἰς τὸ μέροςτοῦ Τσαλόγγου τὸ ἀκρινὸτῆς ἐλευθεριᾶς ὁ ἔρωςκαὶ τὲς ἔμπνευσε χορό.102.Τέτοιο πήδημα δὲν τὸ εἶδανοὔτε γάμοι, οὔτε χαρές,καὶ ἄλλες μέσα τους ἐπήδανἀθωότερες ζωές.103.Τὰ φορέματα ἐσφυρίζανκαὶ τὰ ξέπλεκα μαλλιά,κάθε γύρο ποὺ ἐγυρίζανἀπὸ πάνου ἔλειπε μία. The ship never comes in; the speaker asks when he'll return, and the sea answers.
Τὸ καράβι πότε ἀράχνειεἰσὲ θάλασσα ἀγγλική;Μοῦ σπαράζουνε τὰ σπλάχνη,ὁποῦ μοῦ ἔκανες ἐσύ.133.Πές, πότ᾿ ἔρχεσαι;»... Ὁλοέναεἰν᾿ τὸ πλοῖο του στὰ νερά,ποὺ φλοισβήζουνε σχισμένα,καὶ ποσῶς δὲν τ᾿ ἀγροίκα.134.Ποῖος, ἀλίμονον! μᾶς δίνειμίαν ἀρχὴ παρηγοριᾶς;Ἀπ᾿ αὐτὸν δὲ θὲ νὰ μείνειμήτε ἡ στάχτη του μέ μας. The question isn't where he'll go, but whether the ground will let him.
Ποῦ θὰ πάει; Βουνὰ καὶ λόγγοικαὶ λαγκάδια ἀϊλογοῦν.Ποῦ θὰ πάει; - Στὸ Μεσολόγγι,καὶ ἄλλοι ἂς μὴ ζηλοφθονοῦν.50.Τέτοιο χῶμα, ἀπ᾿ τὴν ἡμέρατὴ μεγάλη του Χριστοῦ,ποῦ εἶχε φέρει ἀπ᾿ τὸν αἰθέρατιμὴ ἐμᾶς καὶ δόξα Αὐτοῦ,51.εἰς ἱερὸ προσκυνητάρι,καὶ δὲ θέλει πατηθεῖἀπὸ βάρβαρο ποδάρι,πάρεξ ὅταν χαλαστεῖ. Διονύσιος Σολωμός.Solomos wrote the poem in his early twenties, in Greek with Italian drafts alongside — one of his earliest great works, it was left unfinished and unpublished at his death in 1857.
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Διονύσιος Σολωμός, 1830
Ο εθνικός ποιητής γράφει σάτιρα: ένας ζυγιαστής ζυγίζει ανθρώπους, πουλιά και πολιτικούς, κι ένα ποίημα βγαίνει από ένα όνειρο και μια τρίχα.
Σατιρικά
Διονύσιος Σολωμός, 1859
In these fragmentary poems, lost characters search their own memories, unsure which words are theirs and which belong to the dead.
1823-1833
Διονύσιος Σολωμός, 1859
The poems Solomos wrote while inventing a Greek poetry that could carry a nation — fragments of longing, grief and resurrection, some never finished.
Where to get it
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Questions readers ask
- Is Εἰς τὸν θάνατον τοῦ Λόρδου Μπάιρον for me?
- You may like it if you enjoy political elegies, choral images of dance and war, and Greek poetry that wears its history openly. Because it was left unfinished and unpublished, expect a fragmentary lament rather than a complete narrative, and a dense, songlike Greek that asks for patience.
- What is Εἰς τὸν θάνατον τοῦ Λόρδου Μπάιρον like?
- A grave, lyrical lament that moves between mourning and defiant freedom, with a slow, chant-like pace and an archaic voice. Feels like melancholy, awe and longing. About freedom, death and war.
- What should I read after Εἰς τὸν θάνατον τοῦ Λόρδου Μπάιρον?
- If you liked Εἰς τὸν θάνατον τοῦ Λόρδου Μπάιρον, try Μνημόσυνα (1857) και έτερα ποιήματα (Αριστοτέλης Βαλαωρίτης), Σονέτα (Λορέντζος Μαβίλης) and Ποιήματα (Αλέξανδρος Ρίζος Ραγκαβής).
A taste of the feed
A dog spends the night trying to reach his master's severed head.
Ὁ σκύλος μόνος ἔμεινε. Ξαπλώνεται στὸ χῶμα καὶ βόγγει, βόγγει ὁ δύστυχος ἀπ’ τὴν πολλὴ τὴν πίκρα. Σὰν ἦλθαν τὰ μεσάνυχτα μὲ μιᾶς ὀρθὸς πετιέται καὶ μὲ τὸ στόμα μάχεται νὰ φθάσῃ τὸ κεφάλι. Κ’ αἱμάτωνε καὶ πλήγιαζε τὰ ἔρμα του τὰ νύχια, ποὺ ξεκολλοῦν καὶ πέφτουνε σγαρλίζοντας τὴν πέτρα. Εἶναι ψηλά, δὲν ἔφθανε. Τεντώνεται, κρεμιέται, γλυστρᾷ καὶ πέφτει, σκώνεται, ὁρμᾷ, πηδάει ἀκόμα ἀνδρειωμένο πήδημα κι’ ἀνέλπιστ’ ἀνεβαίνει. Ἀρπάζει μὲς στὰ δόντια του τὸ φοβερὸ κεφάλι κι’ ἀντάμα φεύγουνε τὰ δυό, παίρνουν βουνὰ καὶ λόγγους. Κ’ ἐκεῖθε ποὺ διαβαίνουνε, ξαφνίζονται τὰ δέντρα καὶ τὄνα τ’ ἄλλο ρώταγε, ὁ πεῦκος τὰ πλατάνια, τὸ κυπαρίσσι τὴν ἐτιὰ καὶ ἡ φτελιὰ τὴ δάφνη:
Μνημόσυνα (1857) και έτερα ποιήματα · Αριστοτέλης Βαλαωρίτης
Lift the stone off the secret. Do not flinch at what bites.
Τοῦ μυστήριου ἀνασήκωσε τὴν πέτρα Καὶ μὴ σκιαχτῇς τὸ δάγκωμα τοῦ ἀστρίτα· Τὴν ἀλήθεια ἀκατάπαυστα ἀναζήτα Καὶ ἰδὲς ἂν εἶναι, ὡς λέν, ψυχοπονέτρα. Μία μία τὲς σαγιττιὲς τοῦ πόνου μέτρα Καὶ ἄγρυπνος τὲς πληγὲς ποῦ ἀνοίγουν κοίτα· Μηνύτρα φτάνει ἡ κάθε μιὰ σαγίττα Ἀπ’ τῆς ἄσπλαχνης Μοίρας τὴ φαρέτρα. Καὶ ἂ βρῇς ποῦ ὁ πόνος εἶναι ἡ μόνη ἀλήθεια, Τότες ἀπ’ τ’ ἀντριωμένα σου τὰ στήθια Γδύσου τὴν ταπεινότη τῆς ὀρφάνιας· Στῆς Ὀμορφιᾶς, στῆς Δύναμης τὴ γλύκα, Μὲ ἀλαλητὸ χαρὰς καὶ περηφάνειας Γίνε Θεός σου καὶ τὴ Μοῖρα νίκα.
Σονέτα · Λορέντζος Μαβίλης
A prayer, of all things, to be turned to stone.
«Σὺ ὁ τὰ πλάσματ’ ἀλλοιῶν τὴν πλάσιν μεταπείθων, σὲ ἱκετεύω ὡς Θεὸν, τὸ στῆθος τοῦτο, ἐλεῶν, μετάβαλον εἰς λίθον. «Καὶ ἔστω μοι καταφυγὴ ὁ τελευταῖος ὕπνος, καὶ τῆς καρδίας ἡ σιγή· ἣ δὸς νὰ γίνω ἡ πηγὴ ἡ κλαίουσα ἀγρύπνως.
Ποιήματα · Αλέξανδρος Ρίζος Ραγκαβής
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