Lie down. On something hard.
At first, the comforts' spinal bones may hurt
but slowly slowly they will straighten
the inactivity's back.
Retract now your bad habits
in a rigid line.
Bring your hands gently to your chest
like temporary wings of temporary angels.
Do not change position.
The supine oars deftly.
Do not be afraid. Fear fattens
it contains hunger.
Do not chew sensations. They have many calories.
They cause the deprivations' fat.
Your eyes closed please, completely
no misinterpretable crevices
no sight lollipops.
They radiate ultraviolet nostalgia.
Exhale deeply, stay still
do not breathe do not breathe
it runs the risk to show
only half of the boatman in the x-ray.
Let go now on the sleep's slide.
I will play you a tape, relax,
of your mother's lullaby
there there my baby
willing or not will say.
Weigh yourselves. Stand still please
your body contains an inlaid scale.
---------------------------------------------
Personal notes:
This poem was published as part of the collection 'Greenhouse grass' (2005).
Its title is long and unusual for a Dimoula poem, but it is successful in setting the tone and the overall narrative of the poem.
There are perhaps several ways to interpret this poem. I understand it best by accepting the premise that the poet is addressing herself, and that the exercise regime central to the poem's narrative relates to eliminating the 'weight' of mortality as carried by someone who is approaching old age.
Here are some observations that support this interpretation.
In the first stanza, the poet suggests that the person performing the exercises has been neglecting her physical (and perhaps mental) health, living a life of comforts and indolence. These attitudes to life become more tempting as one gets older, and Dimoula is approaching old age.
In the second stanza, the poet describes a set of hands as 'temporary wings of temporary angels'. This is a direct reference to mortality. She also insists that one remains in the supine position, which is a common burial position. [In the fourth stanza, she insists also that the eyes remain completely shut, and then, later on, asks her subject to let go and 'sleep', which also alludes to dying]
In the third and fourth stanzas, the poet reveals the sources of one's 'extra kilos'. These include 'fear', 'nostalgia', and 'deprivation', which tend to exacerbate as one gets older. At old age, one fears dying, one longs for the past, the sensations of a younger age, and everything that one has been deprived of in life.
The fifth stanza provides the stronger clue for this interpretation. Dimoula switches narratives and instead of addressing a person performing fitness exercises, she addresses someone lying on a medical bed about to take an x-ray. It is typical of Dimoula to switch into such contrasting narratives - from a regime (and a lying position) that is mostly associated with fitness and health to a regime that is associated with illness and death.
The seventh stanza reiterates themes of nostalgia and makes a direct connection between the beginning and the end of one's life. A small baby falls asleep to her mother's lullaby, while an old person is about to fall asleep forever.
The poem's last stanza is Dimoula's answer to the 'weight' of her mortality. She acknowledges that it is part of herself, something that no exercise may be able to eliminate, but also something that depends on her own perception and coping mechanisms.
At first, the comforts' spinal bones may hurt
but slowly slowly they will straighten
the inactivity's back.
Retract now your bad habits
in a rigid line.
Bring your hands gently to your chest
like temporary wings of temporary angels.
Do not change position.
The supine oars deftly.
Do not be afraid. Fear fattens
it contains hunger.
Do not chew sensations. They have many calories.
They cause the deprivations' fat.
Your eyes closed please, completely
no misinterpretable crevices
no sight lollipops.
They radiate ultraviolet nostalgia.
Exhale deeply, stay still
do not breathe do not breathe
it runs the risk to show
only half of the boatman in the x-ray.
Let go now on the sleep's slide.
I will play you a tape, relax,
of your mother's lullaby
there there my baby
willing or not will say.
Weigh yourselves. Stand still please
your body contains an inlaid scale.
---------------------------------------------
Personal notes:
This poem was published as part of the collection 'Greenhouse grass' (2005).
Its title is long and unusual for a Dimoula poem, but it is successful in setting the tone and the overall narrative of the poem.
There are perhaps several ways to interpret this poem. I understand it best by accepting the premise that the poet is addressing herself, and that the exercise regime central to the poem's narrative relates to eliminating the 'weight' of mortality as carried by someone who is approaching old age.
Here are some observations that support this interpretation.
In the first stanza, the poet suggests that the person performing the exercises has been neglecting her physical (and perhaps mental) health, living a life of comforts and indolence. These attitudes to life become more tempting as one gets older, and Dimoula is approaching old age.
In the second stanza, the poet describes a set of hands as 'temporary wings of temporary angels'. This is a direct reference to mortality. She also insists that one remains in the supine position, which is a common burial position. [In the fourth stanza, she insists also that the eyes remain completely shut, and then, later on, asks her subject to let go and 'sleep', which also alludes to dying]
In the third and fourth stanzas, the poet reveals the sources of one's 'extra kilos'. These include 'fear', 'nostalgia', and 'deprivation', which tend to exacerbate as one gets older. At old age, one fears dying, one longs for the past, the sensations of a younger age, and everything that one has been deprived of in life.
The fifth stanza provides the stronger clue for this interpretation. Dimoula switches narratives and instead of addressing a person performing fitness exercises, she addresses someone lying on a medical bed about to take an x-ray. It is typical of Dimoula to switch into such contrasting narratives - from a regime (and a lying position) that is mostly associated with fitness and health to a regime that is associated with illness and death.
The seventh stanza reiterates themes of nostalgia and makes a direct connection between the beginning and the end of one's life. A small baby falls asleep to her mother's lullaby, while an old person is about to fall asleep forever.
The poem's last stanza is Dimoula's answer to the 'weight' of her mortality. She acknowledges that it is part of herself, something that no exercise may be able to eliminate, but also something that depends on her own perception and coping mechanisms.
The intelligence of your exegesis makes me understand the meaning of this Dimoula’s poem.Thank you so much!
ReplyDeleteYou remind me a poet who was born in Greece: Ugo Foscolo
To Zakynthos.
Never will I touch your sacred shore again
where my young form reclined at rest,
Zakynthos, regarding yourself in waves
of the Greek sea, where Venus was
virgin born, and made those islands bloom
with her first smile; nor did he bypass
your lacy clouds and leafy fronds
in glorious verse, the one who sang
of fatal seas, and of the broad exile
after which, exalted by fame and by adventure,
Ulysses kissed his rocky native Ithaca.
You will have nothing of your son but his song,
motherland of mine: and our fate already
written, the unmourned grave.
translation by Nick Benson of Ugo Foscolo (1778-1827), Sonnet IX, "A Zacinto" written 1802-1803
This sonnet is so far from us, but the feeling of “nostos” is contemporary. Foscolo tells us his exile, the impossibility of the nostos in comparison with the lucky Ulysses; in this Dimoula’s poem the nostalgia for the youth I think is a kind of exile (it is a kind of exile for everyone). I am strucked by your interpretation of the second stanza “ the supine position wich is a common burial position, and the seventh stanza where you write “reiterates themes of nostalgia and makes a direct connection between the beginning and the end of one's life. A small baby falls asleep to her mother's lullaby - an old person is about to fall asleep forever”; it is the same theme in Foscolo’s sonnet: he, as a baby, “reclined at rest” in his cradle (mother lullaby); in the last line he recalls the supine position through the “unmourned grave” in a perfect circular structure between the incipit and the last line (the beginning and the end of one’s life). It must be the Greek character!
Clelia Albano
Hello, would you be able to direct me to a site where I could read this poem in Greek? Or would you be able to post it in Greek?
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for this wonderful blog and many thanks for your reply.
Vanna
Thanks for your kind words Vanna.
DeleteUnfortunately, I am not aware of a site that presents this poem in Greek.
I translate Mrs Dimoula's poems from hard copy books that I have purchased through http://www.ikarosbooks.gr/
George