Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties - Triceratops Home

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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
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Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties - Triceratops Home

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