Mariza Koch

I will take communion with seawater
gathered from your body drop by drop
in an ancient Algerian copper cuvette
which pirates used to take communion in before going to fight

Leather garment, covered with wax
smell of cedar-wood, of incense, of varnish
like the smell of the hold in an old vessel
built back at that time in the Euphrates, in Phoenicia

Fire-coloured rust in the Sinai mines
Bluffs at Gerakini and at Stratoni
The coat, the holy rust that gives birth to us
That feeds us, feeds on us and kills us.

Where do you come from? From Babylon.
Where are you going? To the eye of the storm.
Who do you love? Some gypsy.
What is her name? Fata Morgana

Πούθ’ έρχεσαι; Απ’ τη Βαβυλώνα.
Πού πας; Στο μάτι του κυκλώνα.
Ποιαν αγαπάς; Κάποια τσιγγάνα.
Πώς τη λένε; Φάτα Μοργκάνα.

Φύγε! Εσέ σου πρέπει στέρεα γη
Ήρθες να με δεις κι όμως δε μ’ είδες
έχω απ’ τα μεσάνυχτα πνιγεί
χίλια μίλια πέρ’ απ’ τις Εβρίδες

I’ve told you and I’m telling you again
don’t go down to the sea
as the sea makes storms
it’ll take you away

And if it takes me, where will it take me
down into deep waters
I’ll make my body into a boat
my hands into oars
my handkerchief into a sail
get on board and sail ashore

I’ve told you and I’m telling you again
don’t write me letters
because I can’t read
and tears overcome me

Στο ‘πα και στο ξαναλέω
μη μου γράφεις γράμματα
γιατί γράμματα δεν ξέρω
και με πιάνουν κλάματα