Dedicated to children all over the world...

Best wishes for a very good New Year!!

Mit den besten Wuenschen fuer ein schoenes Neues Jahr!!

Ευχές γιά μια καλή Χρονιά!!!

Merry Christmas!!

Καλά Χριστούγεννα και χαρούμενο το 2011...

Andere Menschen sind es, die jetzt kommen. Eine andere Jugend waechst.
Ihr sind die frommen und verschlungenen Stimmen dieser Weisen nur noch halb vertraut.
Ihr klingt veraltet und verschnoerkelt, was noch eben heilig war und schoen.
In ihrer Seele waltet neuer Trieb. 
Sie mag sich nicht mehr quaelen mit den strengen Regeln dieser greisen Musikanten
und ihr Geschlecht ist eilig...

Krieg ist in der Welt und Hunger wuetet.
Kurz verweilen diese neuen Gaeste hier beim Orgelklang.
Zu wohl behuetet finden sie, zu priesterlich gemessen, die Musik.
So schoen und tief sie sei...
Sie wollen andere Klaenge, feiern andere Feste..

Fuehlen auch in halb verschaemter Ahnung dieser reich gebauten, hoheitsvollen Orgelchoere,
unwillkommene Mahnung, die so viel verlangt..
Kurz ist das Leben und es ist nicht Zeit, sich hinzugeben, zu so geduldig, komplizierten Spielen.

Uebrig bleibt im Dome von den Vielen, die hier zugehoert und miterlebt, fast keiner.
Immer wieder einer geht von hinnen, geht gebueckt, ward aelter, muede, kleiner.
Spricht vom jungen Volk, wie von Verraetern... Schweigt enttaeuscht und legt sich zu den Vaetern.

Niemand weiss, ob noch der Alte Meister drinnen spielt.
Ob die zarten, leisen Tongeflechte, die diesen Raume kreisen,  nur noch Spuk sind ueberbliebener
Geister, Nachhall und Gespenst aus anderen Zeiten..

Manchmal aber bleibt ein Mensch beim Dome lauschend stehen.
Oeffnet sacht die Pforte.
Horcht entrueckt dem fernen Silberstrom der Musik.
Vernimmt aus Geistermunde heiter, ernster Vaeter Weisheit Worte.
Geht davon mit klangberuehrtem Herzen.
Sucht den Freund auf, gibt ihm fluesternd Kunde vom Erlebnis der entrueckten Stunde dort im
Dome beim Duft erloschener Kerzen..

Und so fliesst im unterirdisch Dunkel ewig fort der heilige Strom.
Es funkeln aus der Tiefe manchmal sein Toene.
Wer sie hoert spuert ein Geheimnis walten, sieht es fliehen, wuenscht, es festzuhalten...

Brennt vor Heimweh, denn er ahnt das Schoene!

Aus "Das Glasperlenspiel" von Hermann Hesse
From "The Glass Bead Game" by Hermann Hesse

Umbrellas...by George Zongolopoulos

It rains in my heart

As it rains on the town,

What languor so dark

That it soaks to my heart?

Oh sweet sound of rain

On the earth and the roofs!

For the dull heart again,

Oh song of the rain.

It rains for no reason 

In this heart that lacks heart.

What? And no treason?

It's grief without reason.

By far the worst pain,

Without hatred, or love,

Yet no way to explain 

Why my heart feels such pain!

Paul Verlaine - 1844-1896

 

Μία πλατεία γλυπτών "γεννιέται" στο Παλαιό Ψυχικό.

Εργα τέχνης "φυτρώνουν" σε ενα ξέφωτο της Αθήνας,

που αποκτά, πλέον ονομα επώνυμο, και εξι σπουδαία

καλλιτεχνήματα του Γιώργου Ζογγολόπουλου.

Ειναι ενας από τους σημαντικότερους νεοέλληνες γλύπτες!

Εξι από τα γλυπτά του - προσφορά του Ιδρύματος Ζογγολόπουλου

και του συλλέκτη Ζαχαρία Πορτολάκη -

παίρνουν μόνιμη θέση στην πλατεία για να συμβάλλουν στο

πιστέυω του καλλιτέχνη -

στην αρμονική ενταξη των γλυπτών του σε υπαίθριους χώρους,

καθώς θεωρούσε πως η τέχνη επρεπε να είναι προσιτή σε ολους..

George Zongolopoulos was born in Athens in 1903.

He studied sculpture in Athens school of Fine Arts.

In 1937 he travels to Paris, where he studies and familiarizes himself

with the work of Ch. Despiau.

He studies works of Romanesque, Gothic and contemporary sculpture

He has been a member of the select committee of the Greek State Scholarships

Foundation with the aim of facilitating the studies of sculpture scholars abroad!.

Zongolopoulos was particularly concerned that the sculptures should co-exist

harmoniously with their environment so he frequently collaborated with architects.

The awarding of the hydro kinetic work "Umbrellas" in the competition for the

"Cour d'Honneur" and its installation at the European Council Building in Brussels

in 1995 has been quite honorary!

In February 2004 the sculptor established the public welfare 

"George Zongolopoulos Foundation" located in his home-atelier.

He died on 11th May of the same year..

Χειμωνιάτικη μοναξιά.. Wintereinsamkeit.

The winter loneliness.
Die Einsamkeit des Winters.

"As you raise it to the light to get a closer look, you hold something in your hand that feels like magic.
maybe it's what you expected, maybe not.
maybe it was too close, or it were out of frame.
maybe it's crinkled like tinfoil, or still wet to the touch.
Maybe it's art"

Andy Warhol

A love - hate affair...

Goddess Athena.
She leaped from the head of Zeus, already adult, dressed  with her armor.
She is ,above all, the Goddess of the City, the protectress of civilized life.
In poetry she is the incarnation of Wisdom, Reason and Purity.

Subway station, constitution square.


My love and hate which I feel for the city of Athens.

Long ago I loved this city for what it gave to us.
Friendly, helpful people, nice conversations, smiles..

Today the story is:
a city only for cars..
No sidewalks.
No more talks.. only peoply who are in a hurry.
In order to find a parking space, you have to kill someone!

Now, I had this thing with my disability of my foot.
Shortly after my surgery I could not walk quickly around..
Well, enough with this..

But where are the people gone?

The streets are never repaired..
We stumble over holes (for years now).
Everywhere I can see stains from chewing gum.
There are no streets for pedestrians
(at least not in my area)!

The last days I stumpled around and where pleased to reach in the end my car.
Because at that time I felt safe..

Anyway, the climate here is fantastic!!

The happy child...

This post is dedicated to the children from all over the world.

I hope in this crazy world we live in, one day the word starvation

will only be found in dictionaries.

PS. Sorry, this photo is a little blur,
but the boy never stopped moving.

Dieses Foto ist allen Kindern dieser Erde gewidmet
in der Hoffnung, dass eines Tages das Wort Hunger nur noch
in Woerterbuechern zu finden ist.

PS. Das Foto ist nicht so scharf, weil dieser Kleine
nicht eine Sekunde still stand!

With best wishes for the first Sunday of Advent.

A very old craft...

For how many years I am living in Athens, I remember that  there is always sitting a shoeshine boy at the

same place.

In front of a well known Jeweller shop "Lalaounis".

Who ever went to Geneve where is a street called Rue du Rhone

with all the best Jeweller stores and Swiss watches.

The street in Athens with the finest Jewellers has the name Voukourestiou street.

You can find all the finest Jeweller shops there..

and get a shoeshine at the same time!!

There is something for every taste and wallet...

shiny shoes or a shiny jewel!!!

Animals...

To all of you who are in the winter mood... A dedication from Greece. It is still summer here!!

and people..

Intelligence...

life is made of details... storytelling photographs

I purchased Crissant's book.
I loved the beautiful atmospheric photos that make the past spring to life!
Vibrant, nostalgic images bring back memories that faded out by time!

If you wish to buy Crissant's book you can visit her blog at:  http://fotografiacrissant.blogspot.com/   and then click on "BUY MY BOOK"

People ...

...and animals

Αφηρημένος...

A certain charm of drinking...

Η Ελιά - The olive tree.

Ο Ομηρος και ο Πίνδαρος, ο Αισχύλος και ο Σοφοκλής 'εχουν αφιερώσει μοναδικούς, υπέροχους
στίχους - ύμνους στην προσφορά της. Στη σύγχρονη ποίηση και την πεζογραφία η ελιά πρωταγωνίζεται.
Παλαμάς, Σικελιανός, Ρίτσος, Σεφέρης, Ελύτης δεν παραλείπουν να αναφερθούν στο δέντρο
"με της ρυτίδες των γονιών μας".

Homer and Pindar, Aeschylus and Sophocles devoted unique, superb verses to hymning its benefits.
In modern poetry and prose it plays a leading role.
Palamas, Sikelianos, Ritsos, Seferis, Elytis all speak of the tree "with the wrinkles of our forefathers".

Η Ελιά.
Είμαι του ήλιου η θυγατέρα
Η πιο απ' όλες χαίδευτή.
Χρόνια η αγάπη του πατέρα
Σ'αυτόν τον κόσμο με κρατεί.
Οσο να πέσω νεκρωμένη,
Αυτόν το μάτι μου ζητεί.
Είμ' η ελιά η τιμημένη.

Οπου κι αν λάχω κατοικία
Δε μ'απολείπουν οι καρποί.
Ως τα βαθειά μου γηρατεία
Δε βρίσκω στη δουλειά ντροπή.
Μ'έχει ο Θεός ευλογημένη,
κι είμαι γεμάτη προκοπή.
Είμ' η ελιά η τιμημένη.

Κωστής Παλαμάς

The Olive.
I am the daughter of the sun,
the most carressed of all.
For years the love of a father
Has held me in this world.
Until I fall in death,
my eye seeks him.
I am the olive, held in honour.

Wherever I find home,
my fruit is never lacking.
Until extreme old age,
I find no shame in work.
I have the blessing of God,
And I am all industriousness.
I am the olive, held in honour.

Costis Palamas


Στο ηλιόλουστο ελληνικό τοπίο, κάτω από το γαλανό μας ουρανό, η ελιά ακούραστη,
σκεπτική και συνεπής συνυφαίνει το παρελθoν με το παρόν, αυτοδιαμορφωνόμενη
και μεταβαλλόμενη ως μυθικός Πρωτέας. Δεν είναι αιώνια, αλλά αθάνατη στις καρδιές μας.
Κόσμημα της ελληνικής γης, ζωντανός μύθος πολιτισμών, που στήριξαν πάνω τους θρύλους,
παραδόσεις, θρησκευτικές τελετουργίες, προκαλεί το χρόνο στο διηνεκές.
Ιερό δέντρο όλων των μονοθείστικών θρησκειών της Μεσογείου έχει μια ιδιαίτερη σχέση με
τη χώρα μας.

In the sun-drenched Greek landscape, beneath the azure of the heavens, the olive, tireless,
reflective and dependable, weaves the past with the present, giving itself its own shape and
changing it like Proteus of myth. It is not eternal, but it is immortal in our hearts.
Adornment of the Greek earth, a living myth of cultures which have based their legends,
traditions and religious rites upon it, it challenges time in perpetuity.
A sacred tree for all monotheistic religions of the Mediterranean, it has a special relationship
with Greece.

The sooner...

the better. To know her job very well in another decade!!

Sviatoslav Richter playing Chopin, and interviewed - "Richter, the Enigm...

Sviatoslav Richter. The "Enigma"..

Born: 20.3.1915 - Zhitomir, Russia
Died: 1.8.1997   - Moscow, Russia

Sviatoslav Teofilovich Richter was a Soviet pianist of a German father.
He was widely recognized as one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century,
and as sometimes proposed as the greatest of all.
He was well known for his vast repertoire, effortless technique and poetic phrasing.
Probably the most celebrated pianist to emerge in the Soviet Union in the last 60 years.
With assistance from his father, who was an organist and composer, he taught himself
the piano and gave his first recital in 1934. He then entered the Moscow Conservatoire
to become a pupil of Heinrich Neuhaus.

During a long and distinguished career, Richter has been regarded as a legend in his time
thanks to his gramophone recordings.
Long before he appeared in the West he had built up a large following of devoted admirers.
His unique reputation is built on the supreme musicalitiy of his pianistic technique, which
has enabled him to offer his public a wide repertoire in magisterial performances.

Richter's personal preference was for the music of the 19th century romantics -
Chopin, Schubert, Schumann - but his name was also associated with Russian music.
Indeed, he had long been an exponent of music of Sergei Prokofiev, having given the
first performances of the Sixth, Seventh and Ninth Sonatas.
For long heaped with honours in his own country - he was awarded the Stalin Prize in 1949 -
Richter made his fist foreign tour (to Finland and the U.S.A.) only in 1960.

His visits have always been keenly awaited in the West, but have often been fraught with
cancellations, to the great disappointment of his fans.
In recent times Richter had preferred to perform in more intimate circumstances at such
occasions as the Aldeburgh Festival (he became a close friend of Benjamin Britten) and
the Spoleto Festival and he had been very involved in the "Fetes musicales" near Tours,
France, since 1964.
Richter had farreaching cultural interests: he was a linguist, a lover of Shakespeare, an
amateur painter and a collector of fine art; he was an artist " par excellence".

Der wohl ueberragendste Pianist, den die Sowjetunion jemals hervorbrachte, war der
1915 in Zhitomir (Ukraine) geborene Swjatoslaw Richter.
Mit Hilfe seines Vaters, ein Organist und Komponist, lernte er im Selbststudium Klavier.
Er gab 1934 sein erstes Konzert, worauf er ans Moskauer Konservatorium ging, um
Schueler von Heinrich Neuhaus zu werden.

Im Laufe seiner langen und hervorragenden Karriere ist Richter schon zu Lebzeiten eine
Legende geworden, nicht zuletzt durch seine Schallplattenaufnahmen.
Lange bevor er erstmals im Westen erschien, hatte er dort eine grosse Gefolgschaft eifriger
Verehrer. Sein einzigartiger Ruf baut sich auf der unuebertroffenen Musikalitaet seiner pianistischen
Technik, die es ihm ermoeglicht, seinem Publikum in mitreissenden Interpretationen ein breites
Repertoire anzubieten.

Persoenlich bevorzugt Richter die Musik der Romantiker des 19. Jahrhunderts
- Chopin, Schubert, Schumann - aber sein Name wird auch mit der russischen Musik verknuepft:
er tritt beispielsweise seit langem fuer die Musik von Sergej Prokofiew ein, dessen sechste,
siebente und neunte Sonaten er zur Urauffuehrung brachte.

In seiner Heimal war er schon lange mit Auszeichnungen ueberhaeuft worden
- er bekam bereits 1949 den Stalinpreis - bevor er 1960 seine erste Auslandstournee
(nach Finland und den USA) unternahm.
Seine Besuche wurden im Westen stets mit Begeisterung erwartet, aber seine Anhaenger wurden
haeufig durch Absagen schwer enttaeuscht.

In juengerer Zeit hat Richter es vorgezogen, in intimerer Umgebung aufzutreten.
Als Beispiele koennen das Festival in Aldeburgh (wo er mit Benjamin Britten gut befreundet wurde)
und das Festival in Spoleto erwaehnt werden; seit 1964 hat er sich um die "Fetes musicales" bei Tours
in Frankreich besonders bemueht.

Richter interessierte sich fuer viele Gebiete: als Linguist, Liebhaber von Shakespeare, Amateurmaler
und Kunstsammler war er ein Kuenstler "par excellence".

The shower...

Summer in Crete...
Καλοκαίρη στην Κρήτη..

ΕΤΣΙ ΣΥΧΝΑ ΟΤΑΝ ΜΙΛΩ ΓΙΑ ΤΟΝ ΗΛΙΟ
ΜΠΕΡΔΕΥΕΤΑΙ ΣΤΗ ΓΛΩΣΣΑ ΜΟΥ ΕΝΑ
ΜΕΓΑΛΟ ΤΡΙΑΝΤΑΦΥΛΛΟ ΚΑΤΑΚΟΚΚΙΝΟ.
ΑΛΛΑ ΔΕΝ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΒΟΛΕΤΟ ΝΑ ΣΩΠΑΣΩ...

ΟΔΥΣΣΕΑΣ ΕΛΥΤΗΣ

Very often when I talk about the sun
gets confused in my tongue
a big red rose..
But it does not suits me to remain silent.

A moment of attention.

An evening at the port of Chania (Crete).
A military band is playing upon lowering the flag.

Ηλιοβασίλεμα στα Χανιά..
Υποστολή της σημαίας με τιμές από την στρατιωτική μπάντα των Χανιών.

A new life...

...new hope ?

Mέτρον άριστον...

Mέτρον άριστον!!
Moderate is best!!
What a deep meaning and I didn't listen to these true words, ever!
For almost thirty years I was an athlete. I thought, that my bones are made of steel..
Now, having, since January, a bad injury, I cannot write for a few weeks.
And most of all, not follow you, my dear friends!!
But... The Bitch will be back... soon!!

And here is another poem (won't kill you, to read it)..

Then and Now.
In younger days I was happy in the morning,
wept in the evening;
now that I am older,
I begin my day in doubt,
but its end is holy to me and serene.

Friedrich Hoelderlin
(1770-1843)

Die Rebe..

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gross.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.

Befiehl den letzten Fruechten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei suedlichere Tage,
draenge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Suesse in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen,  lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blaetter treiben.

Rainer Maria Rilke.

Lord, it is time.The summer was very long,
Lay your shadows on the sundials,
and loss the meadows let the winds.

Command the last fruits to be full,
give them two more sunny days,
still urge them on the fullfillment and the pursuit
the last sweetness into heavy wine.

And who has not a house, will not build now.
Whoever is alone, will remain alone,

will wake, read, write long letters
and will the avenues up and down
restless wander, when the leaves are falling..

(Google Translation).
.

Summer in Greece. Last sunset.

One of my favorite photos from this summer. That light of the sunset...
Send you all a last sunset to enjoy the coming winter!

Melancholy..

Sommer

Am Abend schweigt die Klage
des Kuckucks im Wald.
Tiefer neigt sich das Korn,
der rote Mohn.

Schwarzes Gewitter droht
ueber dem Huegel.
Das alte Lied der Grille
erstirbt im Feld.

Nimmer regt sich das Laub
der Kastanie.
Auf der Wendeltreppe
rauscht dein Kleid.

Stille leuchtet die Kerze
im dunklen Zimmer;
eine silberne Hand
loeschte sie aus;

windstille, sternlose Nacht.

Flown away is the gold of the days,
The evening's brown and blue colors:
The shepherd's soft flutes have died,
The evening's brown and blue colors,
Flown away is the gold of the days.

Georg Trakl
Austrian poet (Salzburg 1887-1914)

Ο μπόμπιρας..

Please my son.

Pay attention and take, first, that stupid lollipop out of your mouth.

One day you are going to be the head of my business !!

In fact, I am going to make you the best businessman in the whole country !!

So go now, pick up the bill and pay the waiter...

Be serious and take that lollipop out of your mouth right now..

How can I trust you ?

A moment in a Greek tavern.

Στιγμιότυπο από μια ταβέρνα στα Σύβοτα..

Καλό μήνα !

With best wishes for a very good and sunny month!

Two beauties.

A little blur but.... I wanted to share (this sounds like a rhyme).

My two countries... Οι δύο μου πατρίδες..

I was brought up in Northern Germany in a small town called Bremen (population 600.000)

I had a happy childhood, although I was a bit lazy at school!
I remember my parents. My father was very good to me and my sister. Always in a good mood.

My mother was strict to us and a nervous woman. But we loved them both!!
I don't know how this happened but I cannot remember so much from my past.

It is all very blur in my head!

I met my Greek husband right after I finished High school.
He had a job as obstetrician gynecologist and senior physician in a hospital in Bremen...

His roots where from Crete (father) and Macedonian (mother).
I took sick and came to that hospital. He cured me and we fell in love.

So, this is my story, how I came to live in Athens..
I love this country so much, that I feel more as a Greek..

I see this country with the eyes and criticism of a German and feel with the heart of a Greek woman..


Ανατράφηκα στην Βόρεια Γερμανία σε μία μικρή πόλη που ονομαζεταί Βρέμη (πληθυσμό 600.000).
Είχα μια πολύ ευτυχισμένη παιδική ηλικία. Αν ήμουν και λίγο τεμπέλα στο σχολείο..

Θυμάμαι τους γονείς μου.
Ο πατέρας μου ήταν πολύ καλός με μένα και την αδελφή μου.
Η μητέρα μου ήταν αυστηρή σε μας και μία νευρική γυναίκα.
Αγαπούσαμε όμως και τους δύο πάρα πολύ!
Δεν ξέρω πώς συνέβη αυτό, αλλα δεν μπορώ να θυμηθώ πολύ από το παιδικό παρελθόν μου.
Αύτο θα μου μένει ενα μυστήριο!

¨Οταν τελείωσα το Γυμνάσιο, γνώρισα τον ¨Ελληνα, μετά άνδρα μου..
Δουλέψε ως γυναικολόγος μαιευτήρας σε νοσοκομείο της Βρέμης..
Οι ρίζες του 'ηταν απο την Κρήτη (πατέρας) και Μακεδονία (μητέρα).

Αρρώστισα, νοσηλεύτικα στο νοσοκομείο, και ερώτευτικαμε..

Αυτή είναι η ιστορία πως 'ηρθα στην Αθήνα..

Αγαπώ αυτή την χώρα τόσο πολύ και νιώθω περισσότερα σαν Ελληνίδα.
Βλέπω την Ελλάδα με τα κριτικά μάτια μιας Γερμανίδας και την καρδιά μιας Ελληνίδας!

René Jacobs 'Ombra Fedele Anch'io' (Imagenes de Florencia)

Riccardo Broschi (1698-1756)

Air de Dario
De l'opera Idaspe

The cicada... Ο τζίτζικας..

Since I came to Greece, very young then, these are the first impressions I will remember until I die:

The sun and the bright light.
The scent of flowers.
Noisy streets.
Friendly people.
Old ladies in full make-up.
Men in their pajamas walking in crowdy streets
(in front of hospitals).
Very tall buildings.
The clear sea.
The beautiful islands.
And that special singing during hot summer days:
The cicada.... Ο τζίτζικας..
His singing is so loud and full of joy!!
Tsi tsi tsi tsi
I am going to miss you little fellow!!

Καί τά τζιτζίκια τά τζιτζίκια μέσ' στ'αυτιά τών δέντρων.
(¨Ελύτης)

Τό χρυσό παραμύθι..

A tired soul...

Μία κουρασμένη ψυχή (της ανθρωπότητας)...
This picture was taken somewhere northwest of Greece (Syvota).

Insanity....

Am I going mad?
Help me please, somebody....
Not to go crazyyy!!
It is insanity.

I remember older days, month ago.
Going out, seeing people. Chatting, drinking a glass wine (or two).
Having interesting (or just stupid) conversations.
I had meetings with friends. Having all the fun in the world.
Now I am sitting on my fat, wobbly ass in front of my shitty P.C.
My only companion is my five-year old cat. He is the only one who
can keep up with my new style. My new passion...

Now, I am going to call a friend (or two) to close the door behind me!
Good bye (tschuess - auf Wiedersehen) saluti my dear blogger friends..

See you tomorrow AGAIN  !!

Ohne Worte

Und doch. Vielleicht einige wenige: Es war ein schoener Sommer.

Ο μάγκας .

Young man on his horse...

Christoph Willibald Gluck - Orphee et Eurydice (1774 tenor version in Fr...

A gift from Barcelona.

The world famous illustrator Pep Montserrat sent these beautiful illustrations in a book about "Orfee et Eurydice" to me.

This gave me the idea to share the images, on my blog, with you...

The opera "Orfee et Eurydice" is from the german composer Christoph Willibald Gluck.(1714-1787)

Synopsis.

Eurydice, the young wife of Orpheus, has died shortly after their marriage from a snake bite. Before her tomb, which stands
in a grove of cypress and laurel trees, Nymphs and Shepherds conduct a funeral ceremony. Overcome by grief, the Thracian
singer can only repeat his beloved's name.
Left alone, he gives full voice to his despair in a moving air, to which the echoes of compassionate nature respond. But soon
his emotion turns to rage: appaled by Pluto's decrees, he determines to confront the infernal gods and wrest his wife from them.
Amor encourages him in his audacious plan and promises him success if only he will submit to Jupiter's decrees: on their journey
back to the earth he must not look at Eurydice or explain to her the reasons for his behaviour.
Momentarily dismayed by his condition, Orpheus regains courage and descends to the abode of the dead..

Before the entrance to Hades, masked by curtains of flames and black smoke, Furies, Spectres and Demons - as well as the dog
Cerberus, "raging and howling"- attempt to terrify Orpheus. Undeterred, he appproaches, accompanying his song with his lyre.
The touching strains mollify the infernal attendants, who open up the gates to the realm of the dead. After Orpheus enters, their
natural fury returns and they rush off into the abyss.
In the magical landscape of the Elysian Fields, the Blessed Spirits, oblivious to the earthly world, enjoy a tranquil happiness.
At first taken with the beauty of the place, Orpheus soon implores the Spirits to give him back his beloved.
A veiled figure approaches, led by a Spirit: it is Eurydice. As she is about to give free rein to her happiness, the Spirit signals to
Orpheus to remain impassive until they have left the underworld.

Guiding his wife through the rocky labyrinth that leads out of Hades, Orpheus tells her that she will return to life. The young
woman's joy is quickly dispelled by the inexplicable behaviour of her husband, who obstinately turns away from her.
Increasingly vexed and fearing the loss of his love, she begs him, assails him with questions, trembles in desperation and
reproaches frail, "unkind Fortune". Then Orpheus, no longer able to endure this cruel ordeal, passes the point of no return:
he looks back and Eurydice dies a second time. Distraught with remorse, he gives vent to his despair, then, preparing to follow

his wife in the death, he draws his sword.

Amor, appearing suddenly to restrain him, revives Eurydice and crowns the couple's constancy by leading them back to the world

of the living.

In the magnificent temple dedicated to Amor, who appears surrounded by his attendants, Orpheus, Eurydice, the Nymphs and the

Shepherds pay triumphant homage to the god's limitless power, which  has restored their happiness.
Do not forget to click on the images to see them enlarged.

A future model.

This little girl was posing with such grace in a small village in Syvota, North West from Greece..