Текст и перевод песни Nikitas Tsakiroglou - Profitikon - Live From Odio Irodou Attikou, Greece / Remastered 2005

Profitikon - Live From Odio Irodou Attikou, Greece / Remastered 2005

Χρόνους πολλοὺς μετὰ τὴν Ἀμαρτία ποὺ τὴν εἴπανε Ἀρετὴ μέσα στὶς ἐκκλησίες καὶ την εὐλόγησαν.
Λείψανα παλιῶν ἄστρων καὶ γωνιὲς ἀραχνιασμένες τ' οὐρανοῦ σαρώνοντας ἡ καταιγίδα ποὺ θὰ γεννήσει ὁ νοῦς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου.
Καὶ τῶν ἀρχαίων Κυβερνητῶν τὰ ἔργα πληρώνοντας ἡ Χτῖσις, θὰ φρίξει.
Ταραχὴ θὰ πέσει στὸν Ἅδη, καὶ τὸ σανίδωμα θὰ ὑποχωρήσει ἀπό τὴν πίεση τὴ μεγάλη τοῦ ἥλιου.
Ποὺ πρῶτα θὰ κρατήσει τὶς ἀχτίδες του, σημάδι ὅτι καιρὸς νὰ λάβουνε τὰ ὄνειρα ἐκδίκηση.
Καὶ μετὰ θὰ μιλήσει, νὰ πεῖ: ἐξόριστε Ποιητή, στὸν αἰώνα σου, λέγε, τι βλέπεις;
- Βλέπω τὰ ἔθνη, ἄλλοτες ἀλαζονικά, παραδομένα στὴ σφῆκα καὶ στὸ ξινόχορτο.
- Βλέπω τὰ πελέκια στὸν ἀέρα σκίζοντας προτομὲς Αὐτοκρατόρων καὶ Στρατηγῶν.
- Βλέπω τοὺς ἐμπόρους νὰ εἰσπράττουν σκύβοντας τὸ κέρδος τῶν δικῶν τους πτωμάτων.
- Βλέπω τὴν ἀλληλουχία τῶν κρυφῶν νοημάτων.
Λείψανα παλιῶν ἄστρων καὶ γωνιὲς ἀραχνιασμένες τ' οὐρανοῦ σαρώνοντας ἡ καταιγίδα ποὺ θὰ γεννήσει ὁ νοῦς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου.
Ἀλλὰ πρίν, ἰδοῦ, θὰ περάσουν γενεὲς τὸ ἀλέτρι τους πάνω στὴ στέρφα γῆς.
Καὶ κρυφὰ θὰ μετρήσουν τὴν ἀνθρώπινη πραμάτεια τους οἱ Κυβερνήτες, κηρύσσοντας πολέμους.
Ὅπου θὰ χορτασθοῦνε ὁ Χωροφύλακας καί ὁ Στρατοδίκης.
Ἀφήνοντας τὸ χρυσάφι στοὺς ἀφανεῖς, νὰ εἰσπράξουν αὐτοὶ τὸν μιστὸ τῆς ὕβρης καὶ τοῦ μαρτυρίου.
Καὶ μεγάλα πλοῖα θ' ἀνεβάσουν σημαίες, ἐμβατήρια θὰ πάρουν τοὺς δρόμους, οἱ ἐξώστες νὰ ράνουν μὲ ἄνθη τὸν Νικητή.
Ποὺ θὰ ζεῖ στὴν ὀσμή τῶν πτωμάτων.
Καὶ τοῦ λάκκου σιμά του τὸ στόμα, τὸ σκοτάδι θ' ἀνοίγει στὰ μέτρα του, κράζοντας: ἐξόριστε Ποιητή, στὸν αἰώνα σου, λέγε, τι βλέπεις;
- Βλέπω τοὺς Στρατοδίκες νὰ καῖνε σὰν κεριά, στὸ μεγάλο τραπέζι τῆς Ἀναστάσεως.
- Βλέπω τοὺς Χωροφυλάκους νὰ προσφέρουν τὸ αἷμα τους, θυσία στην καθαρότητα τῶν οὐρανῶν.
- Βλέπω τὴ διαρκῆ ἐπανάσταση φυτῶν καὶ λουλουδιῶν.
- Βλέπω τὶς κανονιοφόρους τοῦ Ἔρωτα.
Καὶ τῶν ἀρχαίων Κυβερνητῶν τὰ ἔργα πληρώνοντας ἡ Χτῖσις, θὰ φρίξει.
Ταραχὴ θὰ πέσει στὸν Ἅδη, καὶ τὸ σανίδωμα θὰ ὑποχωρήσει ἀπὸ τὴν πίεση τὴ μεγάλη τοῦ ἥλιου.
Ἀλλὰ πρίν, ἰδοῦ, θὰ στενάξουν οἱ νέοι, καὶ τὸ αἷμα τους ἀναίτια θὰ γεράσει.
Κουρεμένοι κατάδικοι θὰ χτυπήσουν τὴν καραβάνα τους πάνω στὰ κάγκελα.
Καὶ θὰ ἀδειάσουν ὅλα τὰ ἐργοστάσια, καὶ μετὰ πάλι μὲ τὴν ἐπίταξη θὰ γεμίσουν, γιὰ νὰ βγάλουνε ὄνειρα συντηρημένα σὲ κουτιὰ μυριάδες, καὶ χιλιάδων λογιῶν ἐμφιαλωμένη φύση.
Καὶ θὰ 'ρθοῦνε χρόνια χλωμὰ καὶ ἀδύναμα μέσα στὴ γάζα.
Καὶ θά 'χει καθένας τὰ λίγα γραμμάρια τῆς εὐτυχίας.
Καὶ θά 'ναι τὰ πράγματα μέσα τοῦ κιόλας ὡραῖα ἐρείπια.
Τότε, μὴν ἔχοντας ἄλλη ἐξορία, ποὺ νὰ θρηνήσει ὁ Ποιητής, τὴν ὑγεία τῆς καταιγίδας ἀπό τ' ἀνοιχτὰ στήθη τοῦ ἀδειάζοντας, θὰ γυρίσει γιὰ νὰ σταθεῖ στὰ ὡραία μέσα ἐρείπια.
Καὶ τὸν πρῶτο λόγο του ὁ στερνὸς τῶν ἀνθρώπων θὰ πεῖ, ν' ὰψηλώσουν τὰ χόρτα, ἠ γυναῖκα στὸ πλάι του σὰν ἀχτίδα τοῦ ἥλιου νὰ βγεῖ.
Καὶ πάλι θὰ λατρέψει τὴ γυναῖκα καὶ θά την πλαγιάσει πάνου στὰ χόρτα καθὼς ποὺ ἐτάχθη.
Καὶ θὰ λάβουνε τα ὄνειρα ἐκδίκηση, καὶ θὰ σπείρουνε γενεὲς στοὺς αἰώνες τῶν αἰώνων!

Profitikon - Live From Odio Irodou Attikou, Greece / Remastered 2005

Many years after Sin, which they called Virtue inside the churches and blessed.
Remains of old stars and cobwebbed corners of the sky, sweeping the storm that the mind of man will give birth to.
And paying for the works of the ancient Rulers, the Earth will shudder.
Terror will fall upon Hades, and the floor will recede from the great pressure of the sun.
Which will first hold its rays, a sign that it is time for dreams to take revenge.
And then it will speak, to say: exiled Poet, in your age, tell me, what do you see?
- I see the nations, once arrogant, surrendered to the wasp and the sorrel.
- I see the owls in the air tearing apart busts of Emperors and Generals.
- I see the merchants collecting, bending over, the profit from their own corpses.
- I see the sequence of hidden meanings.
Remains of old stars and cobwebbed corners of the sky, sweeping the storm that the mind of man will give birth to.
But before, behold, generations will pass their plow over the barren land.
And secretly the Rulers will count their human goods, declaring wars.
Where the Gendarme and the Military Judge will feast.
Leaving the gold to the invisible, to collect the wages of outrage and martyrdom.
And large ships will raise flags, marches will take to the streets, the balconies to shower the Victor with flowers.
Who will live in the stench of corpses.
And the mouth of the pit beside him, the darkness will open to his measure, shouting: exiled Poet, in your age, tell me, what do you see?
- I see the Military Judges burning like candles, at the great table of the Resurrection.
- I see the Gendarmes offering their blood, a sacrifice to the purity of the heavens.
- I see the perpetual revolution of plants and flowers.
- I see the gunboats of Love.
And paying for the works of the ancient Rulers, the Earth will shudder.
Terror will fall upon Hades, and the floor will recede from the great pressure of the sun.
But before, behold, the young will groan, and their blood will age without cause.
Shaved convicts will beat their hammer against the bars.
And all the factories will be emptied, and then again, by requisition, they will be filled, to bring out dreams preserved in countless boxes, and thousands of kinds of bottled nature.
And pale and weak years will come in the gauze.
And each will have their few grams of happiness.
And the things inside the cage will be beautiful ruins.
Then, having no other exile to mourn, the Poet, emptying the health of the storm from his open chest, will turn to stand in the beautiful inner ruins.
And the last of men will speak his first word, for the weeds to rise, for the woman beside him to come out like a ray of sunshine.
And again he will worship the woman and lay her on the weeds as it was ordained.
And dreams will take revenge, and they will sow generations forever and ever!