Muoiono gli altri: di Grecia i numi
Non sanno occaso; ei dormon n' e materni
Tronchi e n' e fiori, sopra i monti i fiumi
i mari eterni
Ποῖος δὲν εἶδε ἐπάνω ἀπὸ τὸν λόφον τοῦ Ἁγίου Μάρκου, τὰ γυμνὰ στήθη των; Ἐκεῖ εἰς τοὺς πρόποδας τοῦ Ὑμηττοῦ, ἐπάνω ἀπὸ τὰ μωσαϊκὰ τοῦ ἐλαιῶνος ὅπου ἡ Καισαριανὴ θυμιάζει μεσαιωνικὰς ἀναμνήσεις· ὃπου αἱ βυζαντιναὶ κυρτώσεις παίζουν μὲ τὴν εὐθεῖαν ῥέμβην τῶν μαρμάρων τῆς νεοπλατωνικῆς σχολῆς τοῦ Διοδῶρου· ὃπου αἱ μέλισσαι συλλαμβάνουν τὸν ξανθὸν ἒρωτα, μέσα εἰς τὴν μυρωμἐνην τοῦ θύμου ἀγκάλην. Ἐπάνω εἰς τὸ εὐρὺ λεκανοπέδιον τῶν Ἀθηνῶν, ἐξηπλώθησαν ὓπτιαι αἱ γυναῖκες τῶν γιγάντων τοῦ μῦθου. Εἴδετε τὰς καμπύλας τῶν λόφων αἱ ὁποῖοι φαίνονται ὡς ποτήρια ἀργυρᾶ, ἀνεστραμμένα κατόπιν ὀργίων; Εἶναι οἱ μαστοὶ τῶν θηλυκῶν Τιτάνων, ὄρθιοι, προκλητικοί, σκληροί, ἱκανοὶ νὰ στηρίξουν τὸ στῆθος τοῦ οὐρανοῦ μὲ τὸν βαμβάκινον χνοῦν. Ἄλλοτε οἱ θεοὶ ἐκρέμασαν τὰ κόκκινα χείλη των, ἐρρόφησαν δυνάμεις ἀπὸ τοὺς πλαστικοὺς αὐτοὺς κάλυκας τῆς ζωῆς, καὶ ἐκυρίευσαν τὰ κρυστάλλινα ὀχυρώματα τοῦ Ὀλύμπου. Διὰ τοῦτο τὸ λευκὸν νέκταρ δὲν ἀναβλύζει ἔκτοτε ἀπὸ τὴν διαυγῆ κορυφήν των. Καὶ μόνον ὁ μαστὸς μιᾶς ἀμαζόνος, ἡ ὁποία πάνοπλος ὑπερήσπισε τὴν παρθενίαν τοῦ στήθους της ἀπὸ τὴν κορυφὴν ἑνὸς βράχου, πλημμυρίζει μὲ γάλα τὰ μαρμάρινα κύπελλα τοῦ Μνησικλέους καὶ τοῦ Ἰκτίνου, ἀπὸ τὰ ὁποῖα οἱ αἰῶνες ῥοφοῦν καὶ γίνονται ἀθάνατοι.
Who did not see above the hill of St. Mark, their bare breasts? There, at the foot of Hymettus, above the mosaic of the olive grove where Kesariani censes medieval memories; where the byzantine bends play with the straight wandering/daydream of the marbles from the NeoPlatonic school of Diodorus; where the bees capture the blonde eros, in the midst of the myrrhed brace/bosom of thyme. Atop the wide basin of Athens outstretched/lying supine are the wives of the giants of myth. Have you seen the curves of the hills, which appear as cups of silver, inverted after the orgy? They are the breasts of female Titans, standing, provocative/tempting, tough, capable of supporting the chest of the sky with cottony villus/fluff. Whilom/Erst the gods hanged their red lips, sucked in/drunk the forces from these handcrafted calyces* of life, and conquered the crystal fortification of Olympus. Wherefore the white nectar does not gush ever since from the transparent/clear top of the fortification. And only the breast of an Amazon, which in full armor defended the virginity of her breast from the top of a rock, floods with milk the marble cups of Mnesikles and Ictinus, from which centuries drink and become immortal.
(Translated by: Ilias Kolokouris)
The Monastery Rodokanakis is mentioning is up in Kesariani, and is called Frangomonastiro.
Here more: http://www.archaiologia.gr/blog/publishig/ο-άγιος-μάρκος-φραγκομονάστηρο-στο-λό-5/
Ρέμβη = Daydream. Apparently, the word "rembetis" is also connected to ρέμβη.
*what's the plural of calyx in English?
Platon Rodokanakis was born in Smyrna in 1883. At an early age, he got ill and his family had to move to Kordelio, a beautiful seaside village near Smyrna. A student, still, he decided to become a priest and took up Theology at the the Theological School of Chalke. But the narcissism of his idiosyncrasy did not let him finish his studies. He decided to return to the world and, in his words "worship beauty". He moved to Athens where he worked as a bookstore assistant and a journalist for the newspaper Acropolis. In 1916 he was assigned to organize and found the Byzantine Museum of Thessaloniki and a year later he was put on the Head of the Byzantine Department for the Ministry of Education in Athens. He passed away on 1919 of tuberculosis. His main works where Cassock in Flames and Purple Rose. In his first work, De Profundis, the influence of Oscar Wilde is visible from the title already. Brief fragmental prose, with a tendency for sensuality and hedonism that is more than profound. His shift from Christianity to Paganism was already noted from the critics of his era. Tellos Agras wrote that "he began as a Jesus-to-be and ended up an Adonis" (Nea Hestia 32- 1942). An idiosyncrasy of pessimism yet adoration of the beautiful that was immense. And of course, a scandal and a lawsuit against his Purple Rose characterized his brief life. After being accused of narrating the life of another writer and friend of his, Constantinos Christomanos, Rodokanakis rewrote his semi-autobiographical novel to avoid the charges of defamation and libellography.