Thoughtful Gifts of the Kallikantzaroi

Ho, ho, ho, and a belated 
Merry Christmas to you all! 

In the while where you’ve been fitfully 
Tossing and turning before finally falling 

Asleep like a log, the mischievous dark 
Little men have been hard at work, 

Sawing the great twisted trunk 
Of the world tree and constructing 

Myriad manageable boxes where 
All of us, once we wake, will fit 

Perfectly without losing a second’s sleep. 

Almost Curtains: Young Tragedienne Trapped in Well

Hearing the frantic goatherd’s cry and before 
We ran to help him raise her and she gamboled off 
To dry in idyllic sun-drenched meadow, I tell you 
Down there she’d been a drowning panicky 
Blatting bobbing waterlogged pandemonium, 
Dog-paddling round stony ring of death accompanied 
By wide-eyed chorus of cacophonous frogs stoically croaking. 

Heavenly Strains of Pizzicati

Sheets of music aside, Maestro, 
I’ve heard this made-up word  

Arcosancta graces no worldly dictionary, 
But this should not keep us from bowing. 

Unfrocked in the Basilica

The archpriest has a habit 
He tries to keep 

Under wraps, a habit 
He knows is sin— 

To keep the dark side in, 
Wrong-side-out’s the place 

To begin. 

Intermezzo: Two Manges in Jail

Βρε μάγκες δυο στη φυλακή
τα 'βαλαν με tον διαυθυντή,
Τον αέρα να του πάρουν
Κι οτι θέλουν για να κάνουν.

Βάρα, μάγκα, το μπουζούκι
κι ασε το μαστουρουλούκι,
Θέλω η πενιά να κλαίει
και τα ντέρτια μου να λέει.

Κι απ' τα σίδερα σαν βγω,
μάγκα, Θα σου ξηγηθώ
Θε να ψήσω τη μικρούλα
να σ' τα κουβαλάει ούλα.

Θα σου στείλω και μαυρακι
μέσ' απ' το Καραϊσκάκη.
Πρόσεξε μη την τσιμπήσουν
και στη Σήμανση την κλείσουν.

Θα σου στείλω στ' όνομά σου
τέλια για τον μπαγλαμά σου.
Μη μιλάς και κάνε μόκο,
Θα σου ξηγηΘώ μπαγιόκο.

(Vazambam’s unchained translation)

Two manges in prison
Had a run-in with the warden,
To call his bluff and do
Whatever they wanted to.

Strum the bouzouki, manga,
And lay off getting stoned,
I want the strumming to cry
And tell me of my woes.

And when I’m outta this joint,
Manga, I'll do right by you,
I'll get that little chick
To haul everything to you.

I’ll send you black hash, too
All the way from Karaϊskakis.
Watch out they don't pinch her
And throw her in the slammer.

I'll send you baglama* strings

Special delivery just for you,
Play it cool, mum’s the word,
I'll stuff your craw with moola, too.

[Music and lyrics by Kostas Tzovenos, first recorded in 1934 by Rita Abatzi, video clip recorded in Filia, Messinias, January 2013. Greek-speaking denizens of rembetika will most certainly notice the mangling of stanzas 3, 4 and 5 into one, a truncation brought on by the debilitating effects on the brain of that virulent virus known as Bacchus debauchus.]

NB: “Mangas” is one of those Greek words that defy translation. Gail Holst in her ground-breaking English introduction to rembetika music, Road to Rembetika (Denise Harvey & Company, Limni-Athens, 1975), takes this now somewhat outdated stab as to what it might come close to being in English:

The manges (singular mangas—the pronunciation of the ‘g’ is hard in both plural and singular) were men who formed a sub-culture on the fringe of society. Many of them were actually in the underworld. The nearest equivalents in English are probably ‘spivs’, ‘wide-boys’ or ‘hep-cats’.

Given the present time frame and keeping in mind Jeff Bridges’ portrayal of “The Dude” in The Big Lebowski  (and without Holst’s reference to the underworld), I would most certainly prefer ‘dude’, man.

* baglama

Snippet of Dialogue from By the Road to the Contagious Hospital

------------------------------ 

Elsie: 
You say no one to drive the car but 
What the hell, Bill, what’s that 
Red white and blue still upright 
Upholstered bucket seat 
On shoulder of congested arterial 
Doing there? 

------------------------------ 

Featherweight

for 
aging 

spar 

row 
in 

the 
sparse 

spar 
row 

grass, 
spar 

ring 
in 

the 
wind.