Search Results for “giannisi” | Mediterranean Poetry

February 4, 2010January 14, 2024

Phoebe Giannisi

Phoebe Giannisi was born in Athens (1964). She has studied architecture, NTUA (1988) and she has a PhD in « Langues, Histoire et Civilisations des Mondes Anciens », University of Lyon II- Lumière (1994). She is currently assistant professor at the School of Architecture of the University of Thessaly in Volos, Greece. She had published …

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December 16, 2017
© Photo: Rigel Garcia de la Cabada An interesting account of Sarah Arvio’s artistic work in literature, film and music appears in the article about her on Wikipedia. “Côte . . .
December 17, 2009
Radovan Pavlovski (Радован Павловски) – academician, poet, essayist, travelogue writer, publicist. . . .
January 31, 2012
Gabriel Rosenstock is the author/translator of over 150 books, including 13 volumes of poetry and a volume of haiku, as well as numerous books for children, mostly in Irish (Gaelic). Prose work . . .
August 22, 2020
© Photo: Virginia Monteforte Adrian Grima (Malta, 1968) is an associate professor of Maltese literature at the University of Malta and a visiting lecturer at INALCO in Paris, and he has worked . . .
January 11, 2010
A resident of Greece for over 30 years, Don Schofield’s poetry volumes include Of Dust, a chapbook from March Street Press (1991); Approximately Paradise, a book length collection (University . . .

THE ODYSSEY - HOMER - FROM BOOK XII

“Then we entered the Straits in great fear of mind, for on the one hand was Scylla, and on the other dread Charybdis kept sucking up the salt water. As she vomited it up, it was like the water in a cauldron when it is boiling over upon a great fire, and the spray reached the top of the rocks on either side. When she began to suck again, we could see the water all inside whirling round and round, and it made a deafening sound as it broke against the rocks. We could see the bottom of the whirlpool all black with sand and mud, and the men were at their wits ends for fear. While we were taken up with this, and were expecting each moment to be our last, Scylla pounced down suddenly upon us and snatched up my six best men. I was looking at once after both ship and men, and in a moment I saw their hands and feet ever so high above me, struggling in the air as Scylla was carrying them off, and I heard them call out my name in one last despairing cry. As a fisherman, seated, spear in hand, upon some jutting rock throws bait into the water to deceive the poor little fishes, and spears them with the ox’s horn with which his spear is shod, throwing them gasping on to the land as he catches them one by one—even so did Scylla land these panting creatures on her rock and munch them up at the mouth of her den, while they screamed and stretched out their hands to me in their mortal agony. This was the most sickening sight that I saw throughout all my voyages.

Translator: Samuel Butler

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