Ομιλία Νίκου Φίλη στην τελετή παράδοσης παραλαβής στο Υπ. Παιδείας

Ancient Greek Music: Pindar's Pythian Ode 1

χρυσέα φόρμιγξ, Ἀπόλλωνος καὶ ἰοπλοκάμων

σύνδικον Μοισᾶν κτέανον: τᾶς ἀκούει μὲν βάσις, 
ἀγλαΐας ἀρχά,
πείθονται δ᾽ ἀοιδοὶ σάμασιν,
ἁγησιχόρων ὁπόταν προοιμίων 
ἀμβολὰς τεύχῃς ἐλελιζομένα.
καὶ τὸν αἰχματὰν κεραυνὸν σβεννύεις
ἀενάου πυρός. εὕδει δ᾽ ἀνὰ σκάπτῳ Διὸς αἰετός, 
ὠκεῖαν πτέρυγ᾽ ἀμφοτέρωθεν χαλάξαις,
ἀρχὸς οἰωνῶν, κελαινῶπιν δ᾽ ἐπί οἱ νεφέλαν
ἀγκύλῳ κρατί, γλεφάρων ἁδὺ κλαΐστρον, κατέχευας: 
ὁ δὲ κνώσσων
ὑγρὸν νῶτον αἰωρεῖ, τεαῖς
ῥιπαῖσι κατασχόμενος. καὶ γὰρ βιατὰς Ἄρης, 
τραχεῖαν ἄνευθε λιπὼν
ἐγχέων ἀκμάν, ἰαίνει καρδίαν
κώματι, κῆλα δὲ καὶ δαιμόνων θέλγει φρένας, 
ἀμφί τε Λατοίδα σοφίᾳ βαθυκόλπων τε Μοισᾶν.
ὅσσα δὲ μὴ πεφίληκε Ζεύς, ἀτύζονται βοὰν
Πιερίδων ἀΐοντα, γᾶν τε καὶ πόντον κατ᾽ ἀμαιμάκετον
ὅς τ᾽ ἐν αἰνᾷ Ταρτάρῳ κεῖται, θεῶν πολέμιος,
Τυφὼς ἑκατοντακάρανος

translation:

Golden lyre,
rightful joint possession of Apollo 
and the violet-haired Muses,
to which the dance-step listens,
the beginning of splendid festivity,
and singers obey your notes,
whenever, with your quivering strings,
you prepare to strike up chorus-leading preludes.

You quench even the warlike thunderbolt of everlasting fire.
And the eagle sleeps on the scepter of Zeus, 
relaxing his swift wings on either side, 
the king of birds,
and you pour down a dark mist over his curved head, 
a sweet seal on his eyelids. 
Slumbering, he ripples his liquid back, 
under the spell of your pulsing notes. 

Even powerful Ares,
setting aside the rough spear-point, 
warms his heart in repose.
your shafts charm the minds even of the gods, 
by virtue of the skill of Leto's son 
and the deep-bosomed Muses.

But those whom Zeus does not love 
are stunned with terror
when they hear the cry of the Pierian Muses,
on earth or on the irresistible sea.

Among them is he who lies in dread Tartarus,
that enemy of the gods, 
Typhon with his hundred heads.

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