Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties - Triceratops Home

Yannis Ritsos:
A Selection from the Forties
The selection from Yannis Ritsos' poetry that follows is not
so much representative as it is indicative. It is meant to point to
certain aesthetic tendencies and conceptual structures that have
characterized Ritsos' work from the very beginning of his literary
activity until today. In that sense, at least, the eight poems published
here can be said to constitute an exemplary selection.
—The Editors

58
MEZANYXTA
JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
Meyikri &atpocpsyytat Sairiovta4 to ?up& T./1G yOxca,
(3111trca, TC06 xXifiouy thy incvo aou,
nock Elm ouit6; 6 iaxtoc TCOU iivel3alvat aT6 =Pave
%,613orca.; aTix Sub 'Sty wittapa;
Nticrca, [la Ito.roatnai.ca , 6 xp6toc axavS&Xri;tb
at& TV4p.ca toff nopdcOupou,
oE xcaaapfaeg azek TVX7C mita= xat, at& xpivli 'taw cpav-cipcov.
Ti xpeccgetat aup,n6vLo& nt,24 tou apayycyto5;
'AXXot. Tpunibaocy a764 wrcchoraa, try; Acra,q,
axxot pircIto‘y at& opipsTpcc scat -cigt,Saliouv,
&AXot ni)pco to last8c6: tou -cocp.stou xoct napacuaav tb x(Bp.c& -mug,
a,13.cbc 6 axUXo; not') [Lag Uxocas yaul4st ndc.Xt at6 cpeTy&pc,
coU; cppoupob atac ttaxpLy& cpuVosLa,,
npdmil Expribl TcyciCec tb yepOpc,
tiatepa of rcap-cec .z4ouv, ate rot& atixst tb a7C6ancasp,ce,
niptouve to cpavdcpcot vapo6puTcc dcxotiye-ccu .76 acptiptypa To°
TpaEvou
Scat/ of nilece bp6p.ot xisEvoyta,t, dm' 'a; X6yxec.
sOrcthf3p7ig 1941

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 59
MIDNIGHT
A great starry night showing its bear claws,
foreign footsteps stealing your sleep,
what is this shadow climbing on the ceiling
cutting the room in half ?
Footsteps, a motorcycle, the trigger's sound —
the lantern through the windowpanes,
the cockroaches in the soldiers' shoes and helmets.
What's the use of the moon's compassion now?
Some have hidden in the trunks of the night,
some have entered the coffins and travel,
some have taken the cashier's keys and surrendered their earth,
and this dog that forgot us barks again at the moon,
awakens the sentries at the distant watchtowers,
the first explosion blows up the bridge,
then the doors creak, at the corner stands the squadron,
the street lamps fall face down and the train's whistling is heard
when all five roads are closed by the bayonets.
Athens, October 1941

60 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
MATA I QMENH AIIOIAEH
11,64Xtot avettot, gxouv Icipst 731 06071 llocc arts yup.vig 7c€6464aeg.
OXct stvat 76ao Tcca.464 —144' 645731 31 Adwacc4 Tcoti cpu4sc p,t& aPics[tivii
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Itat 764 poOxo4 7cs7cciiivcc atilv xo4p6xXo4
—6 icsactplvo; 764 7C0Cpecciias Sw xittou.
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tot; yX4a7pist a76 rirmato;
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sc4(bvst 76 My° xop7dcpc ytirm Totic TriXsypc4cpotok a7aougtisydasc
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xabs avOpo7co4 gxst, gvo4 stop,p4474 17dcro nem) atip %%pate& TOU,
oE soc4v7dcpot 847CX6VOYCOGC CrCb d4[I,7CiXWV6 tour,
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Ne57cactv %ad, 764 Unify= — aav p7copECs v' ivervintg 76) 7acyd4po sou.
Tthpa, 6 xa7cv6c
atistsc &cpwvo6 7ukvou dot' 76 ptXt not) xcivce
mkt) 76v mucv6 no6 a7ixec atbv 6gov7c4 acivou -c6 xocad454 rco6
Xedhixe.
11046 auvLiAo empoaPtiet 17dtvou Tby ecrOotot.tivo rim
placc a76 accvtaiwo 170Gpi7vilyp,cc ; "E o.) 3j Ppoxi)
Sipvec Tok gprktoug a7pcmbvsg,
nyfyst 737 ackX7nyio4 xelv.r1 TcoO 'xs cpcogst gym-gym 764 6v6itch7c4,
Itoualtstist tour Tcdayv4oug twv wirmov. ,L1v gxouv 764 Tcc4cacat no0 va&
zalMaouv.

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 61
POSTPONED DECISION
Old winds have replaced us on the bare plains.
Everything is so old — and this lamp lighting a faded seascape
and the bed's shadow falling obliquely on the floor
and the clothes thrown on the chair
— the dead man abandoned them down here.
And you, what are you seeking so persistently
extending your hands as if pulling the ropes of a ship gliding
into the unknown?
The wind encircles the lights of the city, torments the trees,
uproots the little grass around the telegraph poles —
large shadows pace on the cobblestones,
each man has a piece of ice in his heart,
the soldiers wrap themselves with their jackets,
the guard's feet freeze at the watchtowers.
Well, you know it. Yet what's the use of knowing?
The matches got wet too — you can't light your cigarette.
Now the smoke
stands voiceless over the kiss that burned
like the smoke staying on the horizon above the ship that
vanished.
What signal flickers over the spread-out map
in the wooden barracks? Outside the rain
lashes at the desolate camp,
smothers that bugle which had called the names one by one,
moistens the benches in the gardens. The children have no
place to sit.

62
JOURNAL OP THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
°Eva 7CC7COtkat ILOG.ttoplvo arts 3p6p.o.
"Eva 7c66t swayi.ivo st6 rcouto6tcst..
Keucoco; TrIciBast a'rc' cb mpieupo. T1 ap6o.
6[1,wc av gapapvsc Tb x6pc .c6 plumo — erne —
Oa '4v:sae; slIzoAcc tib TeXetnato TcapiOupo. Mat eruotutp6 sou
sa' 6 xaepicp-rti;
p.i -c6v mixt6 oUpav6 ITivou ciTC' Xarca sou %0GTC \get.
svocyeg €5aoXa 'spina aril v6rca.
Mck Yaw; abyt vck 6slec gva mavo6pyto npdaonco
xocOcbs 0' avo6youv Tat nav4o6pta 06pu43o,
Yaw; a6yil. T6 CpC.OTELV6 TETpirovo crc6 icaTow.a.
Tat xipteAa coG xpePaTto0 kaxpucsoviva. "Eva ataspcoplvo
vouxittwo.
K' w crs6 6p6p.o Iva natat no6 6wacast Ta npeirca AA-tivcx6:
atacp6).m.
Map-al; 1942

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 63
A bloodstained shoe in the street.
A foot stuck in the shoe.
Someone leaps out of the window. What cold.
Yet if you brought the hand to the forehead — he said —
you'd have found the last window easily. And opposite you is
the mirror
with the thick sky over the lamp that smokes.
You'd easily have made a hole in the night.
But perhaps dawn will reveal a new face
as the shutters will open noisily,
perhaps the dawn. The shining square on the floor.
The bed's headboard gilded. An ironed shirt.
And outside in the street a child crying out the first Greek grapes.
Athens, March 1942

H TEAEYTA I A TEA. EKATONTA ET I A
JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
Ka-clicp6ptsav axtattiva xt-abvta, ph TcaAtat v-coucpixtot
atxtoG tixop,t aTb yuAt6 SExo.); atpottpec.
Movaxa ptxpac boytoltiva 7LOTil/CC4 xXstvav Tat Tzepaspa-ca
7C/a0.) TODC.
Etxav f3a6/set pitiveG %at ivilveg Tcavou s' ayvtotneg rci-cpEc
Tcavou atb xt6vt p.cct 1.0 TiG &Xcic -coug Itat OGIITCiACM TOO; —
a,AA0C %si Tcdtvou gva Tcbat gym xipc
a,XXoc piritAo %ottp.dt.st -cou
Ita06vag x' gvav Tadtspouq vexpot%.
"rs-csoct riptaav p.i -ct; TcX7Tyig %at Tat %puorcarlipata
OcI4ave Tat v-coucpixta TOD; GT& floaxta, a:6 xtOvt, arts %outpiXE;
-ctT)v Siv-cpco
a'cb etxotlot, civdtp,ssa crci.y71 )tat -caPavt, cycil syrcetvil
TtoU (3yget cs-c6 nfato pipog -cis vtirrac 1f Iva li.mpb Aaaoapdtvapo
"E-cots xAstatIlivTi Irby= kw; Tgouv -cat adv-cta Tb
Tb xtdvt gXettove. liatif3atvav psydact notapta pis' a'c vt5rcot
p.at xr5mtaXa, 7C7P7pCLCG %Mt axtspivec sTittotiec.
Tat TCapecOupcc xXetvotv Tat ildt-ctot TOOg. Tat TVcilta Si piyyay.
Eatv ToUg TutpAotic. Kot-cotisav %at& [Lisa.
"Eftpexs Suvwcat stst've pipsg. Tb Tcotallt 5tot-ciflatve
.c14 cr-c6ye; attic Aotixtot atTc' Tat Aothaa Trot% ap6p,ou;
at7c6 xei cs-coO; OTcOvoloug x,' licrcepa mat Siv fiEspec.
"Epive p.tat vo.vrct cs-carctat ypap,p1) et7c6 OtyvtosTo
picsa crcily noAttefa la= avI viirrot s %at visa crcbv fiTcvo.
"Et to em s 'CilY %AstStopivii xivapa cs-cbv xotvb Stapop.o
Tcdtvou amptPtiig mat savatot c nOp-cac, gvaG 7ce0apivoc
6pOto; Tcarca, emoupacogas Tin) TCAdtvg T011 wily Tcdp-cot
Tafirri p Tack-cli civ rivotyag Da stoptc46utv.

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 65
from THE LAST ONE HUNDRED YEARS BEFORE MAN
They ran downhill in torn jackets, with old guns
without bread in their knapsacks without bullets.
Only with small angry rivers did they blockade the passages
behind them.
They had marched for months on unfamiliar stones
on the snow together with their olive groves and vineyards —
up there some left a leg a hand
some a big piece of their souls
each left one or more dead.
Then they returned with wounds and frostbites
they buried their guns in the rocks, the snow, the hollows
of trees
the barn, in between the roof and the ceiling, in the dark
warehouse
leading to the back of the night with a small oil lamp of
patience.
The locked door creaked as teeth gnash in the told.
The snow melted. Big rivers came down in the night
along with bones, caps and tattered flags.
The windows shut their eyes. The windowpanes didn't shine.
Like blind men. They looked inward.
It rained hard those days. The river came down
the roofs into the drainpipes and from the drainpipes into the
streets
and from there into the sewers — and then you didn't know where.
A fresh ashen line of the unknown remained
in the city in the night even in sleep.
Outside 'the locked room in the common corridor
just on top of the door planks, a dead man
standing always, leaned his back against the door,
back to back — if you had opened he'd have collapsed.

66 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
06TE A6yog Tccat vat xotp.710atc o5TE X6yog vat yup/aetc an' &XXo
aou 7tAsup6.
MAX& (3rjph= a-csyydt, axo-cetvat —13-11µa-ca Uva alb ap6p.o crct
axOtAa
y6pto ax6 'va xopo,&-ct =tont gva xop.pit-ct niyo Biwa° — 6iv
'Weg —
ytipto dtx6 latt tliuxp6 xat crcpoyyt)X6 xt' etp.i-coxo. K' gym pAxp6
acpatoESto
LSti) 'j Etat px-ca-co74ov-cav n&v.ta xXeca-c6 xt' 6X6xAlpo
aaty -thy 6Bpdcp-rupo at6 ni-ctop.a dtif Tb arcaap.ivo Ospp,6p.s-coo.
'Enptop.iva )(tooth., Eepon6-capa gym ava).611-co spb xaXotatpt.
Bottf3apatagyeg hotAnatig. "Eva; ,icncpog aysp.oc acp6ge
a&v Thy tpsAAb tP&A-c71 7co5 -cpayo6baye kpta wondoptot =6
v-coutpsx18 t
nal* Tic p,ith-ceg Tov alto-m*6°u cgttoita-ctxop
criixons -cat piaa Too xat 7c736oCiag -c6 cpp&xvq. E-co6; -cofxotn
jTav af3lai_tiva -cat csuvOlip.aca. Tx6x(ocpot xayoyto(3oAtap.ot a-c6
13i0oq,
xap,Tikat a'thy 64ov-ca 3j atyaXtat Tor) xaplyou 7coAgp.ou. 'Eva &Xoyo
axo-ctottivo crciiv 7cXayt&.
Erxe xoXkijast 6 niyoc 'cal 7ZGC7COISTCYL attifil0 %da"CCM, Trjy x&X-caa
alb rthat.
eat ccvdcp8oup.s — etTcay. Kai Sixtoc 7c66ta Oat avipeoup.a. Tottav
of dtpanoat-ctic
xap&Ezvot a& vat µ2Z; ax4ay to xap-ctat IL TeeL 7CM-CpLOYCMA -Cpayo158ca
pac
a& vat Wig acv Tic ayip.aisc !lag. Doh Xtrat atiyyscpa
xpillowcav Itivou alb Pouv6 a& 666 7asEo08e; ax6°So allaa a' Iva
.4dtxt
a' gym f3op.PaoStapivo a7tCTC. N& xp643oup.s -co0-ro Tb cpdic
p31 pit; -th gripouve xt' a6T6 — 7to0 v6c, -c6 xpt4oupz ; stns.
`0 .5,XXoc xot-cotiae °cat v6xta IOU. %UWE.
Ka-c€131%av Eua-cdt, Toixo--coixo. Ex64)av
7cpay -thy t'axto toug xat xouxouAthOlixay. Xetevtay.
Movixa Tat -caty&pa tour p.axpt& 7c6-ce-7c6-cs tit& x6xxtvii AchttIrti.

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 67
No thought of sleep anymore no thought of even turning on
your other side.
Many dry, dark steps — foreign steps in the street or the stairs
around a piece of silence or a piece of ice or death — you
didn't know—
around something cold and round and indifferent. And a
small ball
here or there changed place, always closed and total
like quicksilver from the broken thermometer on the floor.
Desolate villages, dried-up rivers in a ruthless dry summer.
Bombed churches. A white wind whistled
like the mad cantor who sang wild hymns in the shooting
and the priest with the boots of the dead officer
raised his cassock and jumped over the fence. On the walls
the slogans were crossed out. Muffled cannon volleys far off,
low on the horizon the silence of the lost war. A dead horse
on the slope.
The ice made the shoe stick to the stocking, the stocking to
the leg.
We'll return — they said. Even without legs we'll return. The
cornfields rustled weirdly as if they were tearing the papers
as if they were tearing our flags with our patriotic songs. Two
thin clouds
hung over the mountain like two braids of garlic beside the
fireplace
in a bombed house. Let's hide this light
lest they take it from us — where shall we hide it — he said.
The other man gazed at his fingernails. It was growing dark.
They came down close against the wall. They bent
took their shadows and Covered themselves. They vanished.
Only their cigarettes, far off, sometimes a red glow.

68 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
AseCtiaocv to xcOvcce xce-cii371xav noTdcp.coe cptiyow xc' aka.
`0 Oivoctog 7Ceryna-coOcse XeCOTG7i -:Ce xecpatega
'Anavou nsailin 7e6p-coe too xaXoxacpcoci xouf3cleAceycev tour
neOattivoug.
Tee xtrnaplasta a-eyiplya atbv oOpowb aew ToUg 67eavaa-ceeteg arbv
TOIXO.
"Exacys OE secOdcps -racyydwciw
y61.1.caav atp.a. Pygouv fj a. ET iyvtos Adean71.
Aiyatts yca !IL& Sticrri nEaw an' to aitapa xat tour A6cpouc
yeac xatva Tee atiyveyce 7G0p -coxccAtat not') Si a' acpiivouv va, TeAsethascg
. sou
)(co* vac ai fis(3atthaoov 7C x&-cc 8' areolisEvet. Aiyalts
ye& -etc AEG xaT011 an' 'Cil 7:6-epee. Ti vac notipz -ethpa;
Mc& xtv-tiail leovefexce pE -c6 CapAVO Xipc
vac MEEK p.cac tcayaX71 p.6ya. -c6 xo6-csXo tou neOceplvou. MT);
vee EstuAtEecg
ixelv7) Th 7C ca tinpos-c& crebv 'Anpal scat atb
67ecoG of yopoX6yoc e-cliXcyav alAoteg gym its-caZut6 XouXouSci-eo
nowt
pepoa-tee a-cde pa= TOY xopc-catiiiv; 2E005p:case, Tease,
7:@; vac -e6 EstOgec; trrep6g a-cee p.itca na,c8c6w no5 Siv Ixouv
4 0 111
[I:repo:nee at& p&-tea twv vocvaScov rax) SE sooptive nap& p.6vo paOpee,
paapee, p.ocOpa;
Ila-e6so xouP6v-cc4ocv, poyeo0acev. "Axonav x.c6Xac -mug.
yuvaixa Oyeas tb .noeicarac vric xat -c6 -efyaEs. TH-eav -epi57eco.
`0 l'IX:oc gxeecya t axcee toO aivrpou at& Bp6tio -- o SpOttos ax14s.
DepatcCinsq cpsiyoav TpSxobi, aill_coca65O -tiv nicp-eouV.
•-cini axx ,y, p.spale -cp&xouv of &AA& niertouv. T6
atm: -cp6xsc • -
newoo atb )(than, a-c-i) Acia7c7) x&cou eta s Tb )(Gime. Meydaa
no-cdepxot
x6xxcva noteepcot xatefictivotw an' Tee f3ouvac eato0c VOXTOG.
p.lcopsi; vet itelvscg gec) oks [Liam. MO vet 7.eag;

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 69
The snow melted rivers rushed down they left too.
Death walked in the mud the wheelbarrows in the mud.
On the fallen door of summer they carried the dead.
The cypress trees stood against the sky like rebels against the
wall.
The sun burned. The guitars of the gypsies
were filled with blood. They make no sound. Even the mud
dried up.
We spoke about a sunset behind the trees and the hills
about those orange clouds that don't let you end your day
without assuring you that something will remain. We spoke
about the roots beneath the rock. What can we say now?
A movement only with your desperate hand
to chase away a big fly from the dead man's forehead. How
can you unfold that old voice in the presence of April and May
just as the peddlers used to unfold a silk floral cloth
before the girls' eyes? It has faded, it's gone,
how can you unfold it before the eyes of the children who
have no bread
before the eyes of the mothers who wear nothing else but black,
black, black ?
And yet they talked, asked questions. They even listened to
their voices.
The woman took off her shoe and looked at it. It had holes.
The sun burned the shadow of the tree in the street the
road steamed.
Soldiers flee run aim fall.
From the other side the others run aim fall. Blood runs
on the snow through the mud into the earth. Big rivers
red rivers rush down from the mountains — you hear them in
the night.
You can't stay outside or inside. Where can you go?

70 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
avoc4ii cpu-cpcbsc noA6 xop-capc 7,6%%cvoc XouXotiam tieyea%
aocpwari.
Tb xancoc Elva!, %Oxoccvo %c' accppec-co %avec ycat aecilveg xcci,
Taoultdaccc.
"Avepuncoc ItocTorn alt' -cec TcapecOupcc. Tt -cpixec;
liecnocog axocXtsc p.,cac yAdca-cpcc gvoc Ithx%ocXo
,iaTcpo %Oxxoclo %ccOipto — eca-cpicpTec a-thy 9.co.
Tat mac& %dc0ouv-cacc crcb %cc-abcpXc. ScatliCouv. EuXXoyco5v-cect.
Mtv ecvoqacg 7c6p-m. "Ac xtunist -c8 %ccAomctpc.
Tb cperfecpc stva,c tb %pckyog -co0 reppavog cpccv-cipou.
'Apacapthaou mcXac — paas xov-cpb atpotta6xocp-co at& TVcp.coc.
111ovixa of vg%pot gxouv -c8 gAs150epo v8c xucaopopoGv crto5g
Spdpoug — alcou TO Allot TOL);
T& cp-ccoxec ncmoti-catoc 'mug Tco6 Aettlisav art' Try PpoA -cpcyupvthv
-cocc
CiptaxovTag Unvo 5soct -rip° ag -corm Tbv stacpb, itt 13ptaxov-cocg
Alyo -c6rco Sc%6 -coug tuac tiacou%c& tircolit p,c8c ilcxpt
MeriXoc 7cpof3oAsic ypovOoxonob tok -cotxoug, tPdcxvouv att.;
ccöXcmcgc -caw o-Oyvecpcov
rcupoP6Aoc pou0ou4ouv Tam ttecv-cpoc roCi -couf3XecSmou
-cat alcuXcac axiiiouv -cb xciip.oc Tb ay.ap.p.ivo ete tour gAiloug %cct
-cac
'Ioacoc-A5youa-cog 1942

Y emnis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 71
In the spring sprout lots of grass big red brawny flowers.
The earth is red and fluffy — it's good for pitchers and pots.
People look out the windows. What's happening?
Someone's digging a flowerpot with a bone
— a white, pure bone — it glows in the sun.
The children sit at the threshold. They don't read. They think.
Don't open the door. Let the summer be knocking.
The moon is the helmet of the German soldier.
Bar yourself well — put thick paper on the windowpanes.
Only the dead are free to circulate in the streets — listen to
their steps
in their shabby worn-out shoes wandering in the rain
without finding sleep or a grave these days, without finding
a bit of land of their own a bit of bread a tiny memory.
Big searchlights punch the walls, search the grooves of the
clouds
firearms snort behind the stone wall of the brick factory
the dogs dig the earth dug up by mortars and graves.
Athens, July-August 1942

72 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
FYNA I KEE
Mac gzolb tomptvig of yuvoirxec. Tac sev.r6vm tour tiugouv •wx-
Avotixta,.
'AxoupicOlve tb atb Tpazc ycat vac, IA vcthaouils nos Xetnouv.
TOte xa.-ccact6a6voups ccb cpt txtati.e. /rot wybilocate due zotpixAoc
xai Aip.s:
lioupdcatv]xec noAU att,spa», ace, 0' ckvaulnu &yet) Advict>>.
" OTCGV avdcf3outte tb ardp-co, ixetvyl =p&p& acpyac ltvlyocivoymg
inacv TcpoaliAwavi 7cpbg xouV,voc. 7cXcivri
StVCCI. bat, Taxpap,ivo PouvotAixt cpoptto[tivo 7CoAXok vexpobg —
tobc vexpobc vric cpcallatoK, to Stitok ty6 vaxpobc sto&l, Tbv St.x6 aou.
'Axons tb figlita trig vat TptCet az& 7taXLaG accv68coc
aosofig ta, 7G (ATM va XXOCEVS atilv Tccott oOlfix.71 x' iiatepoc axoUys-cat.
tb Tpaivo nob itodpvet robs cpamapouc v.& tb ttivOTCO.
1946-1947

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 73
WOMEN
Women are very distant. Their sheets smell of goodnight.
They put bread on the table so that we won't notice they're
missing.
Then we realize we're wrong. We get up from the chair and say:
"You were very tired today," or "here, I'll light the lamp."
When we light the match, she turns gently, going
toward the kitchen with an inexplicable devotion. Her back
is a sad little mountain loaded with many dead —
the family dead, her own dead and your own.
You hear her footsteps creaking on the old planks
you hear , the dishes crying in the cupboard and then
the train is heard taking the soldiers to the front lines.
1946-1947

74 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
ArlOrEYMA
Tb cindyeupa atvaa 610 neattivous aou(3dass, tmopss niTP8G, EPar 4
atractOca.
Tb anOysupa Ixst Iva B5axoAo xiAtta ecnb TGGata PiltIOVCCC nob
tteivav a c j gar)
anb =a t& ne0ipta Oap.p.iva arliv ma naves cot; fj 5toi5pacm
%at Tb xoptipc.
Bub axo-avivoc, nirce axottottivoL, 86Sexa, — nOsot aat nbaoc.
KaOs wpm gXEI, T6 axottottivo Trjs. "Hato in' napiOupa
ac&xouv ainot nob Aeinouv xat nb a-cap.vt vapb nob 'kCEAV.
Kt' mkt) tib eccs-c6pt nob ETLECSS atilv axprl TiriG ficiaBLag
stvat aav -rb xotmlivo mint nob Siv axotier, rac TgOvcct
nob Siv axotiet Ttg acxacoAoyfeG vag — xxsexaexeTat
v' aaoticset Tex, IpayotiSta !lag — tiovdtxo, p.ovaxo,
povixo, ecnostop.tiivo, aci.cpopo zataafxri '71 rat SocalwaY).
1946-1947

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 75
AFTERNOON
The afternoon is all fallen plaster, black stones, dried thorns.
The afternoon has a difficult color made of old footsteps left
halfway
made of old buried jugs in the yard, and on them tiredness
and grass.
Two dead men, five dead men, twelve — how many, how many.
Each hour has its dead. Behind the windows
stand those missing and the pitcher with the water they didn't
drink.
And that star that fell at the edge of the night
is like the cut off ear that doesn't hear the crickets
that doesn't hear our excuses — doesn't deign
to hear our songs — alone, alone,
alone, cut off, indifferent to condemnation or justification.
1946-1947

76 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
'Eva; ..A•coc dcnb i€-cps -cc4lascPs nAdcc
xatyov-cac -c6v & yip& xoct dcyx&Occc T11; iplip.cdc.
T' an6yet.ta atticOvcs atily otiyca. virig O&AccaaccG
aacv xi-cpcyog yX6ttnoc a' gvcc p,ey&Ao Becaog
sixactle xcup6 yvic xi-cc ti-coccc goo vavacc,
plxvmp.s ?COG vat scot) xactm.Lc& lloc-ct& — xc anivou =lc xouPiptec
ttoct -a; AccStig, -c6 xtinict, Ta. Atoxolixowcacc,
dxctve p.stvEc x&-cc qoUXXoc ire tit; E-cc&c x&-cc 7LEuxoPsA6veg.
Eixocv xc cci'ycac lib pipo g 'tout' — 'Oxc anouaccia np&I.coc-ca
axt& gv65 Stxpavou itdcv•zpcc, ripyac xcc-c& lib Ac6-yep[Lcc,
lib ngpccapnc Too etx6you -c& pzac:cvux-coc,
gYa -CPLaYCMSQUAA6VL° XP6M-LM 1tG5 neeccIvEL at6 vsP6
&cptiov-ca; ntaco TOD attOTHI 17C6 ILOYari,
tia cpOAAcc tiou cpey yocpco0 necritivcc ivalceacc acts xcaccp,ciq xat crag
ecypt6nantsg.
Aiy gxoutis xacp6 a&v gxoup.s,
8-cav of n6p-cec Ttvov-cac aucupollivoc )(Apt&
6-cav 6 Sp6p.og ylve-coct a&v ixetvoy 7S06 Aisc «Siv Ttno-cco.
`QaT6cro glteiG -c6 'rceog nip& crc6 p,sidcAo aTccupoSp6p.c
irvac tic& 7CoXt -cefcc tti xcXtdcaeg noAUxpw[toc cp65-ca,
avOpomot xacpeTcoriv-cocc axel 116 [Lc& xtv-rIcs71 tiOvo rob 1.1,8-ukcou
ywucgouve an' crsiali Troy xepceov,
apt' Tbv .-cp6gto no6 %66ouv -s6 4)(0111,
an' T6v ?axto roux nivco aT6 tpaniCc -cop BeInvou,
rev tspa no6 vuatgouv OXEc of opcovg; cr& v&-cca, Too;
xt gvcc vovixo dca-cipt atccupthvec rb npoaxicpccX6 -mug.
To rcoptCou/le an' -cif] xocpocxt& trot) krthvoc dtvecileaoc at& cppUSca,
xat nc6Tepo an' 6Aoc---c&f3p&Stoc, noU tisyccAthvec 6 oUpocv6g 6C7CaVOU
-cot.); yvw4outte an6 IcEtwri trycatt6v7i auvw,o-cocil -coug xtv-qa-ri
xxecbc ptxvouv -Hp; xocpaci -mug a&v napacvopi Tcpowiipul
xet-co) an' -cliv %Amstar/1 n6p-coc -cot) x6stiou.
1949
PAC

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 77
RECOGNITION
A stone sun traveled beside us
burning the wind and the thorns of the wilderness.
The afternoon stood at the edge of the sea
like a yellow lightbulb in a big forest of memory.
We had no time for such things — but, in any case,
sometimes we cast a glance — and on our blankets
along with the spots, the dirt, the olive pits,
there were some leaves left from the willows, some pine needles.
They had their weight too — not very much —
the shadow of a pitchfork on the stone wall, late at sunset,
the passing of the horse at midnight,
a rose color dying on the water
leaving silence behind even lonelier,
the moon's leaves fallen amid the reeds and wild ducks.
We don't have time — we don't,
when the doors become like folded hands
when the road becomes like the man who says "I know
nothing."
Yet we knew that far off at the big crossroads
there's a city with thousands of multicolored lights,
men greet each other there with only a movement of the
forehead —
we know them from the position of their hands,
from the way they cut the bread,
from their shadow on the dinner table,
the hour when all the voices are drowsy
and a big star marks their pillows with a cross.
We know them from the struggle's furrow between their
eyebrows
and above all — in the nights, when the sky grows larger above
them—
we recognize them from that conspiratorial movement
as they throw their hearts like an illegal proclamation
under the closed door of the world,
1949

78
01 PIZEI TOY KOZMOY
JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
Atya xatimAtaapiva axotva 'cog xcaoxacpcog.
Alyec ciacpixcec, tib Ovp.ipL, 9p-cip73•
Atcgcrap.s noXti.
IIoAv Tretvdcacctie.
lloA5 novicsaile.
[lay Tb ittateticeile Tco-ci
vbcct Tbao axAripot of iy0p07cot.
Lib tb 7CtCYCE15VE TCOS&
vka I6crti ivtori) xcx,p3t4 itcq.
M' Eva xop.p.ciTt. Ociva-co acv tain71 p.ag— et,otiptcrcoc.
1105 'vat Eva crcixo vac Auriet, aTby obpavb tb ydvac6 °MU ;
BpaStricat etpyi. axtA S v xptiPec axA,71p6T77ecc niTpac.
Tb nayolfqx. To5 vexpo0 xtop,ivo avipo &m.o.
Tb cpsyript eyrzyp.6vo a' gy) &AAo yccab
vac .tb xuAOcet, ycaAvyi p.b tb twx,p6 3ixtuAo
ai 'Troth yccad; TCOVIt yccXAv71;
Accixicaocps TcoXIS,
SouAetiovcag OX77pept; rip+ rci-cprz.
lici-cou in s61cla p.m;
etyac of gec 'sou %balm).
1949

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 79
THE ROOTS OF THE WORLD
Some parched boxwood shrubs in the summer's armpit,
some sage, thyme, fern.
We were very thirsty.
We were very hungry.
We suffered a lot.
We would never have believed
that men would be so cruel.
We would never have believed
that our hearts had such fortitude.
With a piece of death in our pockets — unshaven.
Where is there a stalk of wheat to bend its knee to the sky?
It grows dark late. The shadow doesn't hide the stone's
hardness.
The dead man's canteen buried in the sand.
The moon moored at another beach
while the stillness rolls it along with its little finger —
on which sea? Which stillness?
We were very thirsty,
working the stone all day long.
Beneath our thirst
are the roots of the world.
1949

80
01 FEITON1 EX TOY KOXMOY
JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
ToOto tb maoxitpc, caw zit napac p.dic p0s Oup.toplyo.
That, pap') tb aixxl 100 ijAcou arily nkrlytaapayri
Kt of =plug pia' an' to cpaAa Belxvouv apLwaysc Ttc ypoOLiG tour.
[lay apecc %at tf plilYCL; EIVO4C.
Kayiyac Say Sproas cpitoG, mcyivocc Say Eanetpe.
Aay Wet; xrxt tf xitpa xiyst.
Tb xcaostocipE gxst xiosE tb Spatto TOU ayitteacc crcoac axo-ctoilayous
x,E, of sE7coxiq %aeon= apDarce; atb potiPapacatavo Siaoc.
"Eva iatoxtrirco ayocx-cb cnby nponya SpOp.o.
Koufkaist aray TCOXrce (cc xcEaOloccE acpcapic.
'Ea.cp4i. Xievse atb axoycap.iyo "Oxt, Say tipecc...
OE yectoytic Oop.o0y.cat. Of yutovtic
Si 00..ouy Exiaouy. Tac xopip.ccca
of alloPpovTle; atb Z%0TCaurpto. TI ytix-ca
Ta, cparca Tv') XcaSocpc,o0. 11 coax.aucrri.
Tb cptAt ettay ILL xpb zit thccousta.
"ratepa iticpTaye to xapti atb Tait.
Mc& 7ccaroXti atb SpOp.o. 11 Yarcct. Kt tpixiAct.
vorm. Kt, zapaci nob XTUTCOLEG Suyavca
aTcwc xtunizt ypoOta niyou atb -cpcuegL.
"icrcepa niAL acyccLi. Moyixi
to Sexavfxca, tou opeyyarno5 atb TcsoSpallto
xt, Eva xipt icon acptyyst tip tic stapbacq
5c,L Eva xipt, to XocS(byst tb ncatb neptatpocpo
xt gym xipt 7cob pif3it p.cac =Tali
xc Eva xdpt nob acptyyst gym aAXo xapc
xcct, T' &wet= nob SeCxyouy to aptypiya taus Sayvi,
-rby Iturna aTccupb nob aysp4sc arty 'Astp67toX71,
.iyetioc nob apAsc Tat ileoiyura.
"A, ITO; cpuaist ko5toc b ayetwc. 86Xat vac atoniast.
'Ayocymadyet, tic napTec. XTurciat Ta, nawrCoapta.
'AyattcaLiCit Tic auyotx/eG. Biclay1C& Tic imippec poricstac T6iy p,acyiScoy.

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 81
from THE NEIGHBORHOODS OF THE WORLD
This summer, like last year's, came to us angry.
The sun's bag is heavy on the wounded back.
And from behind the leaves the fruits show their denched fists.
You don't even know which month it is.
No one ploughed this year, no one sowed.
You don't even know how the weather is.
Summer has lost its way amid the dead
and the Seasons sit speechless in the bombed forest.
An open car in the morning road.
It carries into the city cases with bullets.
It turned. Vanished in the dusty light. No, you don't know
The neighborhoods remember. The neighborhoods
do not want to forget. At daybreak
the salvos at Skopeftirio. At night
the lights at Haidari. The blackout.
The kiss was bitter and hasty.
Then the hands fell to the side.
A pistol shot in the street. The night. And the fleeing.
The night. And the heart pounding strongly
just as a fist pounds on the table.
Then silence again. Only
the moon's crutches on the sidewalk
and a hand clasping the back of the chair
and a hand oiling the old revolver
and a hand sewing a flag
and a hand clasping another hand
and the stars showing their clenched teeth
over the swastika fluttering on the Acropolis,
and the wind starting at midnight.
Ah, how this wind blows. It doesn't want to stop.
Closes and opens the doors. Pounds at the shutters.
Dishevels the neighborhoods. Torments the mothers' black
skirts.

82 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
"A, &Tol3cog 6 &vellog Si Oasc vat atone:cam
Ouadcet, cpucgicet, opucsiec,
acyccxoc-cOec ttg socovic scat ttg oaf, asg latopEcc,
dcycotocteinc .ctg cnc/Osc ece Tic 7copxcag Tot) x6cstiou,
zpocvtgec gym ydao 8(5caog amass,
ecnclCzt, ttg cripacteg zc v 77coopyeEcov,
crcixsTac }cc& cncytA vac Sgast tac xopS6vca. 'LOU ram) clac6 -ctv xacpoaccsp.gvvi
gorcpcc
xact cpeOyet, cpetSysc. XpOvccc Tthpcc
xL dcx6p,a, vez csancdcast. Apccolcadcet
za TCOGpieuptx T6iv xccp,ivon anctc@v.
Oopiec a,p(310az vbv axascoplycov.
Tat (3'11110VCe& TOO eototiyorcctc aviiv acspocX.co,
Cotoirrovtacc Tv?' 1cs8cdcacc aitccpplv73 x6xxcacc,
cixot5yovtocc crt6 44,6 f3ouv6 tac xpocvEcc Itat tac xopeottoc,
axotSymerocc crcat xocpcoaktcc-ccc scat crcok 13pccacvoUg azpazwves,
stc 8-cocv of scikrctiyec crcol'ic crcpcc.t6ivec cryittccEvouv cscarcl-ciipco
ecxoliyov-rccc Itc6 'stalky& zac
sATC6 %Er. Tdc -cams — Tcb scat, &7c6 x€i. TE SelxvEL
cdrth Tb TEWCW11.6V0 BecroAo — 6 ecaTocp5Xaxocg 44 —
7cpocrrOcCowca4 zb OivacTo -Etc 1=6-CSC-- 7:pocrcgov.tccg .t6 Myr=
Rt.) dce Tin) sA0111)CL, g(t) -ctv 'EXA&Sc gut) evrc' -thy %dap.°
Scixvet aO.c6 zb -cav-coutlivo 8dcx'Cla0 4)11Xci;
`II 67cocrroXil Tog ecylcuAorro0 crcccupo0 ecn6 zrjv 'AxpOnoAli,
vecui ecvef3cdvec TAX.rivczt crtwatoc
Zirsco, ZATo).
Asoupcac Ockvccsoc
Xstxcepcac Odcvcccoc ®- 6 1c6c7p,o;
ae dcvocrcac cth-coxtvntcc ycavgovtocg — xc of itpoxvgacc
xc oE avOpctncoc xurrlythvTccq -cis Tcpowilpgets scat TOW&COVTC(C CATO)
cmourcoucpAthvutg item.° aTaG 'Catng %Ca cpcovecCovuK .r).cco
AT(1.), CAT(0,
Xstrcepcac Oecvwcog, Asycepcac Orivcaoc — 6 %Oslo;
It& ae clvatre& octkoxtvlicac cpuovdcorcccg
XEuTsocac Ocivccrog, XeuTepcac Ockycm4
of avOpuncoc icon 7coAap.oriaccv scat nicpucv
1co5 7cip-cocv scat xcctioyeXoriaocv
1co6 ytXt6v-cccv l ..c6v %dap.° %at xccp.oyeXo5accv
no6 f3yaCccv 'sac SixtuAct -coug &7C' Taw %Ono Tot); zb acpvtottivo 136)t
xc gpxov-cccv Tceac (5cl/641z:sec ttccq scat TcoXettofiaccv
xcct TcoXellogoccv scat xattoyaoticsocv.

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 83
Ah, this wind does not want to stop.
It blows, blows, blows,
stirs up the voices and pages of History,
strips up the sparks from the fires of the world,
shakes violently a big forest of hopes,
tears the flags of the Ministries,
for a moment stops to tie its shoelaces behind the singed stone wall
and flees, flees. For years now
and it hasn't stopped yet. Strides over
the windows of the burned houses.
Wears the boots of the dead.
Its footsteps are heard on the asphalt,
are heard on the bare plain sown with bones,
are heard on the high mountain with the skulls and the crows,
are heard in the trenches and the night camps,
and when the bugles at the camps sound taps
the footsteps are heard even clearer.
This way the tanks — this way, this way. 'What does he point at
with that outstretched finger — policeman #44 —
ordering death with the boots — ordering death
outside Athens, outside Greece, outside the world —
what does that outstretched finger point at high up?
The lowering of the swastika on the Acropolis,
there's the Greek flag hoisted
Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah.
Freedom or death
freedom or death — the people
in the open cars shouting — and the leaflets
and the people chasing the leaflets and shouting hurrah
stumbling over the tanks and shouting hurrah
hurrah, hurrah, hurrah,
freedom or death, freedom or death — the people
in the open cars shouting
freedom or death, freedom or death
the people who fought and fell
who fell and smiled
who kissed the people and smiled
who pulled the wedged bullet out of their chests with their fingers
and came back among us and fought
and fought and smiled.

84 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
Aeuteptdc Eicivatac, Aeutept& Ociva-coc, Asut&pcac, Orivato;
cpcogovtac &TOOTO; 6 tivep,o; am TOO t& TCAEphYGM
1St gym xouvi at' ecvmxte 2,6t oxEnto p,' Mac yettbvtaaeg
cpcovgovtac OstA-KaXii p,' &voc xauvf: d3ccyyiXirl, BarriAri, BomiX71,
ailp,spa 31 aou °copal. BociyeAll oRo tbv x6ap,o».
Osm-Kcail SExtuc 're tciOpo vs]; tasp,Tcipt,
xat 667cXot try; xupoc-A6vricptepouytovtac to Su6 try; xipLa Sub pxyda.a
neptatipta
xopct-MYY1 avdtp,eact, at& tptcc =at& tYlc,
xalloyeAthvtocc 'neat xupoc-Aivl dcwip,eacc arbv )(hallo
arts 12 to° 'Ortd.)6p71 TO 44.
"Exave xptio. Zfp.cove faivecc b Asx&p.f3p1c. Tpixotp,e.
Erxotp,e vac p,4&(.1)outte atotxeia. Na aUpt Arip dysou Its tour xatalOyouc
ten p,ccptiiptav [tag
axalle vdt, f3iXoup.e tic xmcvotiprec picsetc6pyiveuallc.
E'exccp,s va ypic.Poup,a tia tpayo6am, mtg. tiev npocptciactpx -c6tec.
ITO v& Tcpocptecastc; Ti v«, TtptinOTCpocptiast; ; Ta
ito6 xoc-cePetCvouy to pouXec TC &you sate. ttc I3Ltp6vEc p,i tot laoupa,ap.iva
cp8ta,
gtat atoU 74CCEEf3a,Cyouv atasp6wa Sixtus a' gycc p,u0otb puüb flpatm
itapat.ripatczc noXAt xtvym dote. eyyAgma
acoAXt xtvria71 rine %eat p,syclacc, lawn& Poo Pe.: cd)toxlvyym.
Tat 1.1.7:dcp xatd&cptuta, 'Ey-rAeoc cpavtipot
Itfvouve liact5pec, pyczEvouve attc itOpt&c,
tliacc at& cpuneLv& tatpiyona, cpaCyoytac atoll spvetve
kaiyouv at& •r:Eoapdp.toc xott xa,-coupave. ToOtot 86' of crwt&pot
as vaNctc, Met, ate CS7LCIL tour. 11°1,6 a7cEtt. tout; Toilroc of cpavtipot
tpelagouv p,seuap.ivot, ax.ouytouopXdev, crogouv, tpayouSeive
as vaxouv pOtacacc ate yAthaatz tout. TE tpayouaeive;
"A, toiitoc 6 &vep,o; ae eaer, ya& amtia&t,
cpuaaet, opuariet, yuaaet,
tpccvtist ttc stacpatic Icoct ttc alma's;
pixvec to mochplatoc to° aTCVOU
eqcoAoyotiv of aopuptic -coy Oa' at' vt5x-coc —
xapco6vec gvcc 7ceAchpto soipetpo,
cpttevyst p,t2t xotivta, 6 avap.oc, 6 &vettoc
X1151:0 te )(Tinto. "Qc it6ts 06; atccupdwouys tb cpthc art; nOptec;
8; 7c6te Oa [1.7topket; va acomiaecc; 8c Ito0 OCc cptiset re p,axecipc;

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 85
Freedom or Death, Freedom or Death, Freedom or Death
this wind shouting with all its lungs
and Thea Kali with the megaphone in the convertible with other
neighborhood women
Thea Kali shouting with a megaphone: "Vangeli, Vangeli, Vangeli,
today your mother sees the whole world Vangeli"
Thea Kali without her black scarf
and Kyra Leni beside her fluttering her two hands like two big doves
Kyra Leni amid her three children,
Kyra Leni smiling again amid the people
on October 12, 1944.*
It was cold. December was drawing near, you see. We hastened
We had to gather data. To complete the lists of our martyrs
we had to make the new bases for the organization.
We had to write our songs. We didn't have time then.
How could one catch up ? What could one catch up with first?
In the nights
when the stores' shutters are lowered over the show windows
with the tired lights
just as iron nets are lowered into mythical depths — in the nights
lots of traffic is noticed from English jeeps
lots of traffic by some big, closed, silent cars.
The bars lit up, English soldiers
drink beer, appear at the doors
in the lighted squares one sees them throwing up
they come out on the sidewalks and piss. These soldiers, here,
as if they were, they say, at home. What home of theirs?
These soldiers reel, drunken, stumble, shout, sing
as if they had pebbles on their tongues. What are they singing for?
Ah, this wind does not want to stop,
it blows, blows, blows,
shakes the hearts and the flags
brings down the tiles of sleep
its hammering echoes in the night —
it nails a huge coffin,
it makes a cradle the wind, the wind
beat after beat. How long will they crucify the light on the doors?
How long will you be able to remain silent? How far will the
knife reach?
* The date on which Athens was liberated from the Germans.

86 JOURNAL OF THE HELLENIC DIASPORA
Kivecc v& nipacg n8 Ilucnpt v& Fccachascg nt5 TcAvryk eue tits acpaipeg
sot) Tcatpyouv -c6 ItuaTpt %at -c6 x&pc,
xivecg anstpzcg a-c6 accacc-cettiyo ecip6 ticac potix-ca a-capc
aog 7cccEpyouv -c6y 8c-rp6 xat T6 =apt,
ackyecg yac xattoyeXiascg a-c6 AcOyspy.cc
cso0 va6pvouv -thy fiXco xat -c6 17p6auvrco. Hog 0' eura-rycricascc;
Eog xXiPouy -c6 yaco, aog xAiPouy xat -c6 aaxpu. Hog (A (meet
dcy&ac7];
Mt& A6-yr1 eca-cpc!aptsc tmcpoa-cac cn6 (1(1)1)2
p.cac A6yri -cpu.scazt tia 7cacSt atily xocXc& ti-jg 'Acpflate p.ce;
depilate [mg v& agoup.s Tat XipLIX,
depilate cat6v t6i) &yell° vac, a-czyythaec -c&
T& TcacSt& vac xoctiogy'cac xitou dm' 'c& fiouya,
—(icpficne pag v& xXitPoup.e tac nacacci p.ac,
&g7-Tia-ce 'CM i'MOCSOUV t6 tAcito taw aTc6p(Dy yc' avn8 (rciaave
icac y& Xe4sc T6 4(1)111 acTe tib Tpcucgc,
v& iteedwee f4cc nog xcep.,6yeAou atip impaede pa5. Tog-cog 6
Itysp,og
xpa-cie; c8 atila 'LOU; %Gd. cpcoyy -mug. 'Acpiricrce
Etvac tleycaog 'MOno; 8 avellog
elyac 7ce)(4)pcog nog cog 8 belle);
stvac xapogp.eyog, xapotiveyog, xapogpxyog,
pixvec 'ten ltd.) gt1.oaccy &vatic= (nogg Accogg
p6xyec 'rein -cog Occvdc-cou
p6xysc -cac -can ecyittesa aT6 yog xat xapacac
tac -cetxv) c:s cgya xat ai viva
xc ayotyec ScrinAcc-ca, 7cdcyou ciTc' -c6v gym x6ckao, CO3 - gijdcou TcapiOupo.
'Axogcne nugg acpugec -cog-cog 8 &yam;
placc crag itavoitiveg yactoycig Tog %ballot).
MaxpOvvjaoc, "All-E-cpecTrig, 1949-1951

Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties 87
You try to take the trowel to patch the bullet wounds
and they take both the trowel and the hand from you,
you try to sow a handful of grain in the mutilated field
they take from you both the field and the grain,
you try to smile at the sunset
they take from you both the sun and your face. Where can
you moor?
They steal from you the smile, they steal even your tears. 'Where
will love stay?
A bayonet gleams in front of the bread
a bayonet pierces the child in the mother's belly. Let us
let us join our hands,
let this wind dry our eyes.
Our children sleep under the mountains,
— let us weep for our children,
let them hear the crackling of the seeds — that's why they fell
so that bread won't be missing from the table,
so that the root of the smile will not die in our hearts. This wind
keeps their blood and their voice. Let us.
This wind is big
it is huge this wind
it is joyful, joyful, joyful,
knocks down the walls raised between the peoples
knocks down the walls of death
knocks down the walls between the mind and the heart
the walls between you and me
and opens wide over the one world, the sun's window.
Listen how this wind whistles
in the bloodstained neighborhoods of the world.
Makronisos, Ai-Stratis, 1949-1951
translated from the Greek by Athan Anagnostopoulos