Argýris Hiónis
From: Motionless Runner (1996)
Athletics
THE RETIRED WEIGHTLIFTER has taken to lifting up his
memories. Terrified, he discovers that the memory of the great weights he used to lift has become heavier than ever. Confined to
an armchair, this trembling retired Atlas feels flattened by the
weight of the world, anxious for what to do next should the ceiling
move any lower.
A CHAMPION OF SILENCE and yet, a babbler by nature,
with swarms of sounds buzzing inside his skull, hordes of words
crowding inside his chest, he goes on, for years now, with teeth
clenched and not even a whisper slipping out. He is a great long-distance silencer.
HE APPLIES HIMSELF to absolute immobility, to the
erasure of every pulse of body and soul, even the barely percept-
ible. A difficult sport, perhaps the most difficult of all, to swallow
ceaselessly, without remorse, all internal and external movement.
It is like asking a lake to remain unwrinkled, despite the thrown stones.
A HUNTER OF CHIMERAS, he has arrested numerous
such monsters, only to free them at once, not because he is an
animal lover, but because he is certain that, were he to show these
chimeras to any fellow humans, not one would believe them to be
genuine.
A SHADOW BOXER throughout his life, now retired and
crippled by a fracture, the foundations of his soul left forever
unrepaired.
SEDUCED BY THE DEPTHS, divers often choose to hold
their breath forever.
Above the water's surface, life (the sun, the air, their kin, their
acquaintances, the give-and-take...), their ex-life, longs to see them
re-emerge. But they insist on holding their breath until they dis-
cover that even that is of use no longer and, abandoning it
forever, drunk, they surrender to greater and greater depths.
The depths are full of such divers who love oblivion.
THE SPEAR-THROWER AIMS at the heart of the inter-
minable, in other words, at the center of zero. So, understandably,
he suffers every time he sees his spear nailed to the earth, some
meters past its point of departure. Of course, he continues to aim
at the universe beyond, even without hope, without possibility to
lose his spear there, to break all the records, to abolish finally
the sport itself. Thus the spear-thrower always suffers, but in his heart
he is also happy, since the only way to remain a spear-thrower is
to miss infinity forever.
TO FISH THE MOON you need interminable patience and
persistence, but mainly endurance in the face of sure failure.
Moon-fishermen, armed with hooks or fishing nets (or even
buckets, when fishing in wells), usually sit on the banks of a serene
lake and wait to see the moon on the water. Fishing begins then
and ends with the light of day, when the moon retires into the
dark depths. The fishing nets naturally come up empty, the hooks
are left untouched, but the dedicated moon-fishermen do not
relent and quit the game only when the moon empties out and
goes into hiding in order to regain fullness.
They say that if you bait the hook with a star, you're sure to
end up with a moon in your frying pan. But how can you catch a
star, since everyone knows stars are not reflected on the surfaces
of lakes.
WHAT A PROFOUND ATHLETE and how close to the
ancient spirit (which encouraged rather the effort than the result)
is the planter of cypress trees! Today he plants the tiny trees
knowing he shall never see the full-fledged result of his efforts,
since it's well known that the Mediterranean cypress lives in the
range of five to seven hundred years. He simply plants without
aspiring to an extraordinary performance, record or some such
thing, making thus a supreme, though futile, leap in time, as if a
high-jumper who, although way high over the bar, lands not on
the far but on its near side.
THE WRESTLER who decides to wrestle with time covers his
body with oil so as to slip from time's powerful grip. But
everybody knows time has no hands and therefore no one ever
slips away.
WHOEVER RACES with Charon and beats his speed
reaches the end first.
SLEEP'S CHAMPION sleeps and dreams of sleeping.
SUDDENLY, ONE MORNING (where did it come from?)
he decided to surpass himself He began, therefore, to run to the
point of total exhaustíon, to sprint, to jump, long and high. To no
avail. He remained always behind or underneath himself.
Once he had enough, he thought to change sport, so he
became a poet. Of course, this wasn't any better (here, too, his self
was insurmountable), but he found this sport more to his liking, so
he goes on, a poet, even with an average record.
LONG-DISTANCE swimmer inside a well.
Translated by Stathis Gourgouris
Page(s) 17-19
magazine list
- Features
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- 10th Muse
- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
- ARTEMISpoetry
- Atlas
- Blithe Spirit
- Borderlines
- Brando's hat
- Brittle Star
- Candelabrum
- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
- Equinox
- Erbacce
- Fabric
- Fire
- Floating Bear, The
- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
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- Homeless Diamonds
- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
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- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
- Poetry Scotland
- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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