For this entry, I have picked a song from the corpus of work of Nikolas Asimos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vB4DSjbtrwU. It is about the personal struggle of a misfit who bears witness to the perceived misdeeds in their milieu yet is powerless to stop them.

Nikolas Asimos was such a figure. A modern-day Cynic, in the image of Diogenis, who spoke his mind plainly and boldly. His songs are defined by their authenticity. This is an artist of the highest order who makes no appeals to kitsch.

Below are the original lyrics, my faithful translation of them, and some further commentary on the meaning of these words. Also check my other interpretation related to Nikolas Asimos: Interpretation of “The Mechanism” by Nikolas Asimos (2023-05-08).

Στο φαλημέντο του κόσμου αυτού

Ερμηνεία:  Νικόλας Άσιμος
Στίχοι:    Νικόλας Άσιμος
Μουσική:   Νικόλας Άσιμος


Θυμάμαι που σε κοίταζα στην άκρη του γκρεμού
Ισορροπώντας τάραζες το λάθος του καιρού
Παλλότανε το είναι σου ολόκληρο στο φως
Την καθαρή ουσία σου ετρόμαζε ο λαός

Στο φαλημέντο του κόσμου αυτού
Ο καβαλάρης εγώ τ'ουρανού
Με τους ανθρώπους ζητάς επαφή
μα έχει σπάσει κι αυτή η κλωστή

Τα χρόνια που περάσανε σ'αφήσανε πληγές
Κουβάλαγες το τώρα σου και σ'άλλες εποχές
Ενώθηκες σαν τίποτα με τον ωκεανό
και γνώρισες τ'απέραντο στον άλλο εαυτό

Στο φαλημέντο του κόσμου αυτού
Ο καβαλάρης εγώ τ'ουρανού
Της Αριάδνης το μίτο κρατάς
και απ'την αρρώστια τους και πάλι το σκας

At this world's bankruptcy

Singers:  Nikolas Asimos
Lyrics:   Nikolas Asimos
Music:    Nikolas Asimos


I remember looking at you at the edge of the cliff
While balancing you were disturbing the fault of the era
Your being was pulsating in the light
Your pure essence was scaring away the people

At this world's bankruptcy
I the rider in the sky
You seek contact with people
but this thread has also been severed

The years that passed by have left you wounds
You were carrying your present to other times
You integrated with the ocean like it was nothing
and discovered the boundless in the other self

At this world's bankruptcy
I the rider in the sky
You hold Ariadne's thread [ guiding tool ]
and from their malaise escape again

The poetic “I” and “you” both refer to the same person. It is none other than Nikolas Asimos himself. Artists conceal their loneliness in such figures of speech. It is how they can hide in the open. This song outlines the self-perception of a genius of a songmaker. He lead a life of independence, in which he refused to become anybody’s pawn and suffered dearly for it.

Not conforming to authority is not simply about expressing disobedience towards the establishment. It is an all-encompassing outlook for every facet of life: to not be swayed by trends, not be influenced by bandwagon effects, not do what all friends consider normal if it does not make obvious sense, and not even be involved with everyday niceties, like sociability for its own sake.

The kind of person who is independent lives at the precipice, at the very edges of this world, like how falcons build their nests along unreachable cliffs. This person is akin to the hero in a Greek tragedy: they are blessed by the gods with unusual gifts yet are destined to endure a lifetime of social distancing.

These myths are not pretty and there is no ending in which everybody is happy, hence the contemporary meaning of “tragedy”. People suffer from the very brilliance that defines them. In excellence lies hubris, namely, human’s propensity to go past the boundaries that are established by the greater forces of this world. In tragedy, hubris is not about the average person who commits mundane deeds, even though there is hubris to be had in quotidian matters whenever individuals fall for untenable exaggerations. With tragic heroes, hubris lies at the outermost points of the human experience, waiting to be discovered by those who have the temerity and skillset to push the boundaries and to do what others deem insane.

Such a hero balances at the edge of the cliff because (i) they have the ability to do so and (ii) that is the only place they can live in peace. Every other arrangement engenders some kind of disturbance. This is the grand design and there is no way to assail its ironclad structures. All our protagonist can do is accept who they are, what they can get, and what shall forever remain outside their reach.

Nikolas Asimos has the honesty and modesty to recognise both his rare talent and his curse. While he radiates, his very essence drives people away. It is why even though he does seek contact with people, he can never have it in earnest. There may be some simulacrum of a relationship that offers the appearance of a connection, but never a strong bond. Perhaps it is obvious why honesty is necessary for this kind of admission. But why modesty? It is required to avoid bragging about one’s qualities while also not complaining about the state of their living.

The titular bankruptcy of this world is not its literal implosion or imminent demise. Rather, it concerns the impression the poetic “I”, alias “you”, has of what is happening around him: duplicity and mixed signals abound and get exposed as shallow power plays or selfish gimmicks in pursuit of vanity projects. So what? The skybound rider is powerless to enact reform. He makes for the heavens because his work on earth is futile. The rider shall go his way while people will continue to mind their own business. So while the poetic “you” in the last stanza has the tools to make an exit away from the putative malaise, it ultimately is inconsequential.

[ Ariadne’s thread is how Thyseas got out of the Labyrinth where he slew the Minotaur. This is an artistic device to describe why people need to record their steps in order to retrace them, getting themselves out of a difficult situation. Being inattentive and unaware of the situation is how you meet your doom, literally or figuratively, in some complicated affair. ]

The third stanza notes that the hero finds solace in acceptance. It has happened as a result of experiencing his familiar normality: that defining present he has had presence in throughout the years. The ocean, then, is a proxy for the tragic self, in the sense here considered. While the allusion to integration is a reference to the process of accepting what kind of person the poetic “you” actually is.

The ocean can give you everything your heart desires, from commerce, to travel through unfamiliar places, untold riches and breathtaking vistas, the elusive love at some distant shore, or even noble death at the hands of a fellow pirate. It is full of potential and thus connotes openendedness, opportunity, and adventure. Yet the ocean has the sheer ferocity to take everything away from you. In practice, it is neither your friend, nor your foe. And, like Nikolas Asimos, it can neither be pacified nor domesticated. It has a will of its own. To be the ocean is to remain ever potent and unruly. It is to be empowered thus and to suffer accordingly.