Παρασκευή, Ιουλίου 26, 2019

Μεταφράζοντας τον "Βιοπαλαιστή" του Ανδρέα Καρκαβίτσα

Ανδρέας Καρκαβίτσας 

Ο ΒΙΟΠΑΛΑΙΣΤΗΣ 
Διήγημα  από τη συλλογή "Τα λόγια της πλώρης"

Αποτέλεσμα εικόνας για "Τα λόγια της πλώρης"Λόγια της πλώρης - Βικιπαίδεια

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Ακούστε το κείμενο, διαβάστε το κείμενο, δείτε οπτικοποιημένο το κείμενο... Σε μορφή ηχοβιβλίου ή καλύτερα βιντεοπαρουσίασης η εργασία αυτή έχει δυνατότητες ήχου και εικόνας... Επιπλέον δυνατότητα αυτή, να πατήστε τώρα το ειδικό σημείο με την ένδειξη "CC" που είναι κάτω δεξιά στην οθόνη προβολής για να δείτε στην οθόνη σε απόλυτο συγχρονισμό με την αφήγηση το εκφωνούμενο κείμενο. Από εκεί προσαρμόζετε και το μέγεθος των γραμμάτων για άνετη και ξεκούραστη παρακολούθηση...O Aνδρέας Kαρκαβίτσας (1865-1922), κύριος εκπρόσωπος του ηθογραφικού διηγήματος, μετά τον Παπαδιαμάντη, γεννήθηκε στα Λεχαινά Hλείας. Στην Αθήνα σχετίστηκε με τον Κωστή Παλαμά, τον Κωνσταντίνο Χατζόπουλο και τον Γρηγόριο Ξενόπουλο. Η προκήρυξη του διαγωνισμού διηγήματος της "Εστίας" τον ώθησε στο χώρο της ηθογραφίας και ταξίδεψε σε χωριά της Ρούμελης για να συλλέξει λαογραφικά και ιστορικά στοιχεία τα οποία χρησιμοποίησε στα πρώτα έργα του. Το 1889 στρατεύτηκε και κατά τη διάρκεια της θητείας του στο Μεσολόγγι γνώρισε τις άθλιες συνθήκες ζωής της ελληνικής υπαίθρου. Τις εντυπώσεις του κατέγραψε σε μια σειρά οδοιπορικών σημειώσεων, που αξιοποίησε στη νουβέλα του "Ο ζητιάνος" το 1897. Υπηρέτησε επίσης ως έφεδρος δόκιμος γιατρός και το 1891 μετά τη λήξη της στρατιωτικής του θητείας διορίστηκε υγειονομικός γιατρός στο ατμόπλοιο "Αθήναι", με το οποίο ταξίδεψε στη Μεσόγειο, τη Μαύρη Θάλασσα, τα παράλια της Μικράς Ασίας και τον Ελλήσποντο. Οι εμπειρίες του από την περίοδο αυτή της ζωής του περιέχονται στο ταξιδιωτικό ημερολόγιο "Σ` Ανατολή και Δύση" και αξιοποιήθηκαν στη συλλογή διηγημάτων "Λόγια της πλώρης" (1899). Από τον Αύγουστο του 1896 και ως το 1921 υπήρξε μόνιμος αξιωματικός του ελληνικού στρατού φθάνοντας ως το βαθμό του γενικού αρχίατρου. Από τη θέση αυτή συνέχισε να ταξιδεύει με συνεχείς μεταθέσεις που επιδίωξε ο ίδιος (την έντονη αυτή επιθυμία του για τα ταξίδια ονόμαζε ο ίδιος "αειφυγία"). Υπήρξε μέλος της Εθνικής Εταιρίας που προωθούσε τη Μεγάλη Ιδέα και η ήττα του 1897 στάθηκε για τον Καρκαβίτσα πολύ μεγάλη απογοήτευση. Μέλος του Στρατιωτικού Συνδέσμου το 1909, συμμετείχε στο κίνημα στο Γουδί, στράφηκε όμως στη συνέχεια εναντίον του Βενιζέλου. Πήρε μέρος στους Βαλκανικούς πολέμους ως στρατιωτικός γιατρός και το 1916 αντιτάχτηκε στο κίνημα Εθνικής Αμύνης με αποτέλεσμα να τεθεί σε περιορισμό και να εξοριστεί στη συνέχεια στη Μυτιλήνη. Στο στράτευμα επανήλθε το 1920 και αποστρατεύτηκε δυο χρόνια αργότερα με δική του αίτηση. Οι κακουχίες της εξορίας συνέβαλαν στον κλονισμό της υγείας του και το 1922 πέθανε από φυματίωση του λάρυγγα. Σύντροφός του στα τελευταία χρόνια της ζωής του στάθηκε η Δέσποινα Σωτηρίου.








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 Ο ΒΙΟΠΑΛΑΙΣΤΗΣ  ΣΤΑ ΑΓΓΛΙΚΑ



THE DECK BOY
Αποτέλεσμα εικόνας για "Τα λόγια της πλώρης" By Andreas Karkavitsas

Andreas Karkavitsas - Wikipedia




 Translated by Vassilis C. Militsis



Captain Stamati, I think that topsail doesn’t seem very strong to me.”


You’re right, Captain Vassili; the foresail needs changing, too. If only I could sail by Cavo d’ Oro without sustaining some damage or other. Sometimes the wind will tear off the jib, sometimes it will cut clear a boom like a leek; and sometimes it will blow off the lateen. Last time I was weathering the cape, the topsail came off its casing.”

It’s a really nasty cape, damn it!”

Both of us were sitting in the poop deck on the Saint Nicholas relishing the mastic rum from Chios and enjoying at the same time our pipes impatiently anticipating our meal. Our vessels, my brig the Taxiarchis and Captain Tragoudas’ barquentine were moored there in boring dead calm, not being able to budge.
But we were not the only ones. Barques, two-and-three masted schooners, brigs, clippers, merchantmen, were all staying put against the Troad shoreline. There were about thirty full rigged ships, each to sail to her destination; but in vain! Not a feather was moving in the wind. Their bowsprits pointed at the west, as though they were expecting a fearful apparition to emerge out of the foundations of heaven.


The sea below, smooth, looked like gold-blue porridge. In some places it was ink-spotted by the shadow of a passing cloud.
Fringed halos, long, crystal-smooth, striated furrows and scaly shapes signaled the approximated directions of water currents and the spiritless blow of the winds. And all around you could see the tiny sails and the tinier skippers of a crowd of sailing boats wandering around the unerring signs of the sea calm.



The sky, above, ashy blue steamed under the beating sun. The undulating plains of Troad slanted down as far as the sea from the foot of Mount Ide. Hamlets through the lush vegetation could be seen here and there in the highlands; the plowed slopes and dells loomed purple; blue-green mist settled upon the olive orchards and the holly forests. Life wove its fabric now, meek and desirable, without the din of war and sheen of chariots. Tenedos, nearby, seared and russet, seemed to have sprouted from the waves; the torn sails of its windmills appeared to beg the wind for charity; the vines were eager to yield their cool juice. And down on the dusky Karababa headland an enormous shadow had fallen upon it, as though it was Achilles’ shadow that sought the blood of a princess as a sacrifice on his grave. [See





If sails were no use, oars came in handy. The most impatient captains employed their longboats to tow their vessels. Others took to paying visits. Someone went to pay his regards to a brother, a father, a relative, a friend or fellow townsman. Many had to settle old accounts; others had to conclude in-law relations, others again to talk about family affairs. Goddess Sea is unpredictable in her vagaries; she separates people for years and then reunites them in a moment. You can never handle the weather: when it favors you, you run along with it willy-nilly. You cannot wield your own will. When you find it idle and dormant, you can’t help waiting.
I also paid several visits as I had my own accounts to settle. As I was coming back to my own brig one morning, I suddenly caught sight of Captain Tragoudas’ the Saint Nicholas. “Fancy,” I thought to myself; “long time, no see! I haven’t seen my friend for ages. It’s fifteen whole years since he embarked from our island and met a succulent widow in Antalya.”
It was rumored that he had prospered with the widow as she was filthy rich. He had his barquentine built and worked on his own. He owned houses, shops, restaurants, storehouses; a proper magnate.


I jumped on the gangplank and clambered upon the deck. The meeting was touching: “Oh, what a pleasant surprise! Welcome aboard!” We kissed smack, smack in tears. The tears were followed by pipe smoking and mastic rum until our meal was ready.
You know,” Captain Tragoudas says to me; “one of my crew is also Manolios, my nephew, Zafirenia’s child!”

Really! Where’s he now?”


I had known Manolios well. He was a strong, hardworking child with a heart of gold. He used to work on my brig for a long time and had no problems with him. A glance of mine was a command for him; a word from me was his job. He was one of the star-crossed of life. From his very early tender years he had to come up against a host of vicissitudes. He had to affront the ogress of toil, the iron-hard necessities, and the murky river of his parental sin. His father, Captain Mathios, had been an able ship-owner on our island, but he became infatuated with a woman from Kontoskali [Constantinople]. It would not have been so bad if it was only for his infatuation: he deprive his children of their bread. He left behind his wife, four girls and Manolios, still a little kid, and went to live with his mistress. No letter, no money did he send home. His sweetheart was an insatiate, greedy whirlpool. After she had sucked him clean of his ship and everything, she spat him out, destitute and crippled. He returned to his home island; he found the house had been sold; his daughters had been slaving for others and Manolios had gone to sea as a deck boy. The captain wanted to work to pay out his follies, i.e. the harm he had done to his family, but it was too late. What of drinking and his former abuses he was incapable of lifting even a feather. He was taken in by his daughters and was looked after until his death.


However, Manolios did not take after his father. He took, body and soul, to work and thriftiness. He cared for no women, taverns, gambling or brawls. He never deviated from his goal. Thus he managed to marry off the three of his sisters to the best families.


Hey, Manolio,” I told him as soon as I saw him; “Now that you’ve got rid of your burden, it’s high time you found yourself a wife, too.”

Who, me?” he replied with a rueful smile. “I’m already married to four women.”

You mean your sisters, don’t you? Thank God, you’ve married them off. There’s still one left, Roussa, who is also engaged. You’ll save some more money for her, too, and then you’ll think of getting married yourself.”

I’ve already saved for her, too; I’ve collected enough and sent it to her. Two days ago I got a letter telling me that her wedding took place on the fifteenth of March. They drank to my happiness; to my own happiness!”

He uttered these words in such a mocking manner that I got goose flesh. You thought that one had wished him the moon and the stars.


Why not,” I told him; “now it’s your turn.”

My turn for a long vayage,” he replied in his wonted bitter smile.

Voyage! Oh, the little buster!” I addressed Captain Tragoudas. “I see he’s already marked her. Where is she? Over there or down here?”

He did not point either at the Aegean or the Black Sea.

Down there,” he pointed downwards.

I did not suspect anything bad and began to tease him. The mastic rum whetted my appetite and I could smell the roasted meat in the galley, where our divine meal was being cooked. And I was not the only one who had a bear hunger; it was also the whole crew. It is inevitable: the sailor is not cut out for leisure. He longs for rough seas. Calmness is his death. He must not be left to mull over himself, or else you’ve lost him. Now I could see them uneasy, nervous and sullen hang around in the galley. They wanted to occupy themselves with something to eat.
Some were sitting on the gunwales dangling their naked legs to and fro so forcefully that you thought they wanted to unlock their joints. Others, again, had embraced the mast and pitilessly pressed their chests against it. A couple of them bowed over the rails looking at the still waters and cursed spitting at the sea in high dudgeon. One provoked the black ship dog to attack the cat and tear it apart.
The leading seaman and two more sailors took to darning a sail at the prow. The rest of the crew stood up, their hands crossed, pipes in mouth, and looked up at the sails in desperation. What were they looking at them for? The sails hung dead, sad and sleepy and cast their shadows, mingled with those of the masts, the pulleys and the yards, as far down as the spotlessly scrubbed deck.









Hungry as I was, the chat with Manolios was a respite, so I went on teasing him relentlessly.

Is she rich?”

Oh, filthy.”

But she babbles!”

According to her whims. Now she’s mute; but when she’s angry, she deafens you.” And he went on smiling. But I insisted.

Can she sing?”

A host of songs.”

Is she white, black, brunette, blue-eyed, what’s she like?”

Blue-eyed.”

He said the latter with great confidence; he fixed his eyes on the deaf waves with such tenderness that I shuddered. No lover looks at her sweetheart with such a desire. And that damned one – that is the sea that was as thick as honey – suddenly started making some crystal-rosy ripples and plashed here and there sprinkling diamond-like dew, as if its substance crawled and promised him eternal commitment.

Just fancy!”


I silently touched Captain Tragoudas’s leg. But he kept relishing his smoke with his amber-bowled pipe, his fez straight up on his head, his loose breeches falling around his embroidered sash in pleats and he looked as if he rested blissfully upon his riches. He did not give a dime about the problems of poor and unfortunate people. He had decided to be selfish, cruel and pitiless. When he had learned about his brother’s-in-law wantonness, his sister’s distress and her children’s hard life, he had not reached out to lend a helping hand. Many were those who had gone to plead for his relatives’ need and ask for his aid, but he turned a deaf ear to them.




Each is responsible for his own luck.” He would say. “Woe to those who expect help from others! Woe to the cuckoo that lays his eggs in another bird’s nest! It’s a fact that I made my fortune unaided (not daring to admit that he had been the first example of a cuckoo). I seized upon the occasion and made Goddess Luck my underling. Let them do the same. They won’t get anything from me!”


As I said all had gone and spoke to him, save one: Manolios. He was a proud lad. He had approached his uncle only after his last sister’s engagement. Not as family but asking work as a sailor. Captain Tragoudas treated him as he did the rest of the crew. Nothing more; in fact less than the others.




I’d better not let him take liberties,” he thought, “as he might take advantage and shun work. And indolence may lead him straight to his father’s path.”

Then I addressed Manolios.

Listen, kid,” I said to him; “What the heck are you talking about?”

I’m dancing to your tune, Captain Vassili;” he replied. “What shall I tell you? You’re suggesting I get married as if you’re asking me to shoulder a burden; OK, I shouldered it; what then? Let me confess to you something straight out as though you were my father. I don’t feel like going on living any longer; I can’t tell you why – I just don’t. You know I’ve been working since I was a kid. As long as I had been committed to those girls, I wanted to live and work. Not simply live; I dreaded losing suddenly my life and leaving behind my sisters destitute in the pity and scorn of the world. I’ve turned night into day. I’ve stuck to my duty though at times luck was against me. But I also fought against it and I came out a winner. I never intended to shrink back a jiffy. I was like a sturdy steamship with her fire up, her boilers hot with steam so that no seas and no wind dare hinder her course. And I had been like this until two days ago when I got the last letter from Constantinople. As soon as I read of Roussa’s wedding, my knees turned to water. Either because of unhoped-for joy or God’s will, I felt something light and warm leave my heart and I collapsed to the ground senseless. Since then I’ve lost all desire either for work or life. My uncle calls me a slacker and he’s right; I do understand he’s right. But what can I do? I’ve come to the end of my struggle. I’ve spent my fuel, the fire’s died out, the boilers have gone cold and I’ve stalled. And it’s a wonder that I’ve come so far. Imagine if I had broken down in the middle of the way, and left my sis begrudging! Now my time has come, and I don’t give a dime. If only the White Angel would come soon.”






And he fixed his eyes at the sea again with an expression of a silent desire as if he expected deliverance therefrom. And he was so serious of speech, so gentle and soft-spoken that I believed that he did not intend to convince me, but to lull himself. His suntanned face, his big blue eyes, his downy whiskers and his curly hair lent him such seriousness and candor that I could not help respecting him. I could not dare to contradict him. Nothing on him manifested his despair, a true mirror of his tormented soul. All was as calm as the sea that seemed to be eavesdropping. His lips only writhed suddenly as though his words came out of the bottom of his heart.




Finally I made bold to tell him something and make him change his mind.

Listen, my child!”

No sooner did I begin speaking than I saw Captain Tragoudas spring up in alarm.

At your posts!” he yelled his orders. “Man the helm! Unfurl the topsail! Up the foremast!”


The sailors ran up and down in a craze. Joy shone in their eyes. Their hands carried out the captain’s orders in a flash. Some worked on the sheets, some on halyards and others on the cables. The sluggish wood woke up at once and the ill-tempered Gorgo came alive.

To your boat, Captain Vassili,” Tragoudas turned to me; “to your boat. The wind will blow us off. The meal can wait for the time when meet again, God willing.”

It started suddenly blowing from Karababa. It was raging and it roiled and ruffled the sea from end to end. The cargo of logs that stood safe for many days was snatched by the wind and scattered all over the sea. Some logs were thrown on the beach, some were buried in the port of Tenedos, some were blown along Sigri [Lesbos] and others were washed towards Gozo Channel. Their destination was unexpectedly changed as though Polyxena had been sacrificed and the hero left the ships on Minerva’s decision to punish the sacrilegious Ajax. [See



I jumped into my boat and hasten to my brig. My mate had managed to keep The Taxiarchis hove to, which I boarded quickly. We sailed before the wind in the wake of Captain Tragoudas’s barquentine. There was a commotion on board his ship. Sailors were running, boats were being lowered to the sea. There was a babel of shouts as though suddenly the vessel were sinking. The captain stood upright in the poop deck, without his fez, flustered, was cursing and blaspheming, shaking his hands like a pair of propellers.

I steered along with difficulty and asked:

Ahoy ship! What’s happened? Do you need help?”

Our Manolios has drowned! He’s just vanished!” Captain Tragoudas bemoaned.

The tragedy thawed at once the ice of his heart… Poor child! He was sent to draw water with the pail, stumbled on the rail, fell and drowned. In vain did they plow the sea in search of him, but there was no trace. The jealous water held him tight in its embrace forever. Perhaps it kept its promise; who knows?


However, the deck boy, the breadwinner for his sisters, found eternal rest.

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