Interpretation of “The Elves” by Socratis Malamas & Ioulia Karapataki
For this entry in the series, I have picked a beautiful song which evokes that curiosity we have about the otherworldly. The Elves is a song written and composed by the much-beloved Socratis Malamas. My favourite version is performed at a live concert together with Ioulia Karapataki: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU9UDuiqHOU.
Below are the original lyrics, my faithful translation of them, and further commentary on my part.
Τα Ξωτικά
Ερμηνεία: Σωκράτης Μάλαμας & Ιουλία Καραπατάκη
Στίχοι: Σωκράτης Μάλαμας
Μουσική: Σωκράτης Μάλαμας
Σε ποια σκιά τα μάτια σου θολώνουν
Μικρό πουλί σ'αγάπησα πολύ
Τα βήματα στα κύματα βουλιάζουν
Να'σουν εδώ να σε βρει η ανατολή
Μέσα στα ρούχα μου σε κρύβω σαν φωτιά
Να'χουν να λεν πως δε σε γνώρισα ποτέ
Όνειρο είναι η ιστορία μας καρδιά μου
Τα ξωτικά γυρνούν τις νύχτες συντροφιά μου
Δωσ'μου το φως κι ας κάνω πως δεν είδα
Δώσ'μου νερό να σβήσω τα βαριά
Ό,τι έχει μείνει μέχρι εδώ απ'το κερί μου
είναι τα μάτια σου που καίνε σαν φωτιά
Μέσα στα ρούχα μου σε κρύβω σαν φωτιά
Να'χουν να λεν πως δε σε γνώρισα ποτέ
Όνειρο είναι η ιστορία μας καρδιά μου
Τα ξωτικά γυρνούν τις νύχτες συντροφιά μου
The Elves
Singer: Socratis Malamas & Ioulia Karapataki
Lyrics: Socratis Malamas
Music: Socratis Malamas
Under which shade do your eyes blur
Little bird I loved you so much
The steps sink in the waves
I wish you were here to be found by dawn
In my clothes I keep you like fire
So that they may say that I never met you
Our story is a dream my heart
The elves roam around with me at night
Give me the light although I pretend not to see
Give me water to erase the heavy parts
Whatever remains here of my candle
are your eyes that burn like fire
In my clothes I keep you like fire
So that they may say that I never met you
Our story is a dream my heart
The elves roam around with me at night
At the surface level, this sounds like yet another love song. It is how I used to think of The Elves for the longest time. Though now I am of the view that there is an alternative explanation, the hint for which we already get from the title.
Elves are a figment of humanity’s artistic genius. As with all myths, they are a metaphor for phenomena we bear witness to. This one, in particular, pertains to experiences that are at once relatable yet decisively alien. We can recognise in them patterns that the human psyche resonates with while realising that they cannot fit into the narrow confines of our quotidian affairs.
One does not encounter the elves at their 9-5 job. No. What we do for a living is typically a matter of need. It has a logic of its own as we have to suppress at least some of our individuality or altogether sacrifice a part of who we are to the altars of expedience and necessity.
The elves are exotic creatures. They are found well beyond the milieux most of us operate in and seldom escape from. They inhabit ancient forests and pristine lands. These we describe as “nature”. Nature is always close to where we live. A short trip is enough to take us to the nearest grove, mountain, or water element, for example. Proximity, however, does not necessarily imply a connection of any meaningful depth.
People can be physically close to “nature” yet clearly beyond reach of it. This happens because we need time to get accustomed to the new realities. Humans are products of their environment. They cannot just switch contexts without requiring a period of adjustment. Life outside the bustling human world unfolds at a slower pace than what we are conditioned to accept as the baseline of interpersonal relations. The stimuli we get in the great outdoors are much more subtle. There are sounds and musicality all around, though they are subdued enough for us to get the initial impression that the place is eerily quiet.
Furthermore, we fail to have situational awareness whenever we turn inward and forget to come back out. This is our default modus operandi. It reduces us to androids; cogs in a society-wide machine. Much of what we do is to just get by. It happens mindlessly as we sink into routines and thinking patterns that we eventually take for granted.
The elf as an artistic device, then, reminds us that the magic all around us is accessible to all of us provided we change our ways. It does not matter that something is close. What is of import is to develop the capacity to appreciate it. This requires that we free up resources from cognitively burdensome but ultimately needless preoccupations.
With those granted, we can understand the lyrics of The Elves as an appreciation of nuance: to discern that which hides in the open. This is not a typical love song because there is no lover involved. In the first verse, the poetic “I” figure wishes that some abstract “you” were present, while walking alone along the beach (where waves would wash away all the footprints on the sand).
In the refrain we learn how knowledge of this seemingly dreamy otherworldliness is kept within. It is not materialised as a person, as the partner to love, but as the impersonal fire that fuels one’s actions. Others will never notice because they did not get out of their own inward-looking routines. Had they done so, they would have encountered the elves themselves.