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     ART  EXHIBITION

     

     ΚΟΥΦΙΟΙ ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΙ - HOLLOW MEN

     

     

     Vaggelis Lioudakis 

      

         

     

     

     curated by Vana Verriopoulou

    From 10.10.2014 to 26.10.2014 

    Opening friday  10.10.2014   19:00   

     

    Wednesday/Friday 

    Saturday/Sunday

    12:00-21:00

     

     

    free entrance

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Visit Vaggelis Lioudakis' web site

        The Hollow Men

     

        by T.S. Eliot

     

     

    Mistah Kurtz-he dead

                A penny for the Old Guy

     

     

                           

                            I

     

        We are the hollow men

        We are the stuffed men

        Leaning together

        Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

        Our dried voices, when

        We whisper together

        Are quiet and meaningless

        As wind in dry grass

        Or rats' feet over broken glass

        In our dry cellar

       

        Shape without form, shade without colour,

        Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

       

        Those who have crossed

        With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

        Remember us-if at all-not as lost

        Violent souls, but only

        As the hollow men

        The stuffed men.

     

       

                                  II

     

        Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

        In death's dream kingdom

        These do not appear:

        There, the eyes are

        Sunlight on a broken column

        There, is a tree swinging

        And voices are

        In the wind's singing

        More distant and more solemn

        Than a fading star.

       

        Let me be no nearer

        In death's dream kingdom

        Let me also wear

        Such deliberate disguises

        Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves

        In a field

        Behaving as the wind behaves

        No nearer-

       

        Not that final meeting

        In the twilight kingdom

     

       

                       III

     

        This is the dead land

        This is cactus land

        Here the stone images

        Are raised, here they receive

        The supplication of a dead man's hand

        Under the twinkle of a fading star.

       

        Is it like this

        In death's other kingdom

        Waking alone

        At the hour when we are

        Trembling with tenderness

        Lips that would kiss

        Form prayers to broken stone.

     

       

                         IV

     

        The eyes are not here

        There are no eyes here

        In this valley of dying stars

        In this hollow valley

        This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

       

        In this last of meeting places

        We grope together

        And avoid speech

        Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

       

        Sightless, unless

        The eyes reappear

        As the perpetual star

        Multifoliate rose

        Of death's twilight kingdom

        The hope only

        Of empty men.

     

       

                               V

     

        Here we go round the prickly pear

        Prickly pear prickly pear

        Here we go round the prickly pear

        At five o'clock in the morning.

       

        Between the idea

        And the reality

        Between the motion

        And the act

        Falls the Shadow

                          For Thine is the Kingdom

       

        Between the conception

        And the creation

        Between the emotion

        And the response

        Falls the Shadow

                          Life is very long

       

        Between the desire

        And the spasm

        Between the potency

        And the existence

        Between the essence

        And the descent

        Falls the Shadow

                          For Thine is the Kingdom

       

        For Thine is

        Life is

        For Thine is the

       

        This is the way the world ends

        This is the way the world ends

        This is the way the world ends

        Not with a bang but a whimper.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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