Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume II

Posted: 23/03/2023 by vequinox in Literature


The last autumnal sun; the echo of the sea;

sound of water splashing on water. You don’t discern

one from the other. Houses tumble, ships left to rust,

fishermen feel sleepy.

We grow old, we grow old, he whispered and looked

far away to find his voice, though his voice had no

face anymore, nor he; eyelids glued onto the eyes

like limpets. Yet, the sea floor is light-blue and green —

he said — a golden zig-zag line descends, like a ladder

that you climb up.

Then someone says, good evening, to you, so simple

and unintentional and boundless, like resurrection.



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