Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties - Triceratops Home

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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.
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Yannis Ritsos: A Selection from the Forties - Triceratops Home

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