...as the sea of Peter Riley is narrow, dark and obscure ( J. Waldeen)
Greek Passages is a set of 105 prose-poems derived from four sojourns in Greece, mostly in the vicinity of Argos and thus at the hub of early Greek power. The structure is entirely diurnal, building each poem from the day’s events, so that cognizance of monumental historical figures and events infiltrate from outside into notes of fauna, ruins, the news, books about Greece or not, American music listened to, pleasant dinners, dreams of northern England etcetera. Two shorter stays on the west coast of the Peloponnese furnish beginning and ending sections of a gentler, more lyrical cast, and there are interruptive excursions, mostly to the remains of cities and wars. Everywhere what is presented to the eyes is the starting-point for a poetical process creating lenses in location and sense.
Greece is not elsewhere, it is there at the bottom of the garden; we speak it every day, and its stories are meshed into our meanings. The very words we use echo the passage of populations from east to west and back across Greece, entwined with further movements between Africa and the North . . . These things impinge centrally on rhapsodies of distance and peace.
(Peter Riley)
And at evening the sky falcon stands over the bay / sun
sinking into meaning. The lights go on in the houses /
A man gets out of a boat onto the stones of the shore,
walks over to the bar / and is recognised / A jovial
shout goes up / embracing everyone, our welcome / A
treaty is caught in the moment, and brought on into the
dance / Slim as pencils, the leaves / throw themselves
at the music.
•
Ed a sera il falco si leva alto sopra la baia / il sole
tramonta nel significato. Nelle case si accendono le luci /
Un uomo scende da una barca sugli scogli della riva,
cammina fino al bar / ed è riconosciuto / Si alza
un saluto gioviale / mentre ci abbracciamo, il nostro benvenuto /
Un accordo è raggiunto all'istante, e portato nel
ballo / sottili come matite, le foglie / si gettano
nella musica
Thinking simple thoughts, like a dawn bird in my niche
I / set forth, stepping lightly / walking the shoreline,
testing the stability / of simple things, words, stones,
against each other, the light radiating between sea and
mountainside the air hot as blood / the very living
blood that bears our histories.
Ho in mente semplici pensieri,
come un uccello dell' aurora nella mia nicchia
Io / mi metto in viaggio, calpestando leggero la battigia,
saggiando la stabilità / di cose semplici, parole, pietre,
una sull'altra, la luce che s'irradia tra il mare e
il fianco della montagna l'aria bollente come sangue / il vero
sangue vivo che sostiene le nostre storie.
Who was it, sailed from this harbour, who, / sailed out
/ together / Kelvin tell me / from this small harbour
that time / deep in the power / We threw all our money
into the sea // And what became of that / thing they
call love / what powers massed what quiet graves /
carried that emblem to the sides of the earth // Sea
surface tensed out, ultra- / marine against the white
walls, the wind ready, the boat edging out at the gap /
everything we ever owned / flung at eternity
Chi era colui, che salpò da questo porto,/ insieme a
/chi salpò / Kelvin dimmelo / da questo porticciolo
quella volta / assorto nel potere / Noi gettammo in mare
tutto il nostro denaro // E cosa è accaduto di quella / cosa
che chiamano amore / quali poteri ammassati
quali tombe silenziose /
recarono quello stemma ai lati del mondo // La superficie
del mare si calmò, blu oltremarimo contro le mura
bianche, il vento pronto, mentre la barca s'avanza verso il golfo /
ogni cosa che possedemmo / scagliata verso l'eternità
