LORD, please let us always be ready and give your

compassion to the grapevines along with the rain

          so we can forget;

we who never build anything and have always lived

          beyond our sorrow

so people couldn’t find us; we slept next to fences

covered by our secret and we have always followed

          dark roads;

desolate, naked while the one who will die at this hour

          walks in his shroud next to us.

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YANNIS RITSOS-POEMS, Selected Books

Η Ελένη/Helen

Ω, αυτή η ξενιτιά μας μέσα στα ίδια μας τα ρούχα που παλιώνουν,
μες στο ίδιο μας το δέρμα που ζαρώνει· ενώ τα δάχτυλά μας
δεν μπορούν πια να σφίξουν, να κρατήσουν τριγύρω στο κορμί μας
ούτε καν την κουβέρτα, που ανυψώνεται μόνη, διαλύεται, φεύγει, αφήνοντάς μας
ακάλυπτους μπροστά στο κενό. Και τότε η κιθάρα, κρεμασμένη στον τοίχο,
ξεχασμένη από χρόνια, με χορδές σκουριασμένες, αρχίζει να τρέμει
έτσι που τρέμει το σαγόνι μιας γριάς απ’ το κρύο ή απ’ το φόβο, και πρέπει
να βάλεις πάνω στις χορδές την παλάμη σου, να σταματήσεις
το μεταδοτικό τους ρίγος. Μα δε βρίσκεις το χέρι σου, δεν έχεις χέρι,
κι ακούς μες στο στομάχι σου πως είναι το δικό σου σαγόνι που τρέμει.

Oh this alienation in our own clothes that get old

in our own skin that gets wrinkled while our fingers

cannot grip anymore cannot even wrap around our bodies

the blanket that rises by itself disappears disperses

             leaving us

naked in the void And then the guitar hanging on

             the wall

forgotten for years with rusted strings begins to quiver

like the jaw of an old woman quivers from cold or fear

             and you have to

place your hand flat on the strings to stop their

contagious chill But you cannot find your hand

              you don’t have a hand

and you hear in your stomach your own jaw

              quivering

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Oath

He stood at the edge of the old castle’s parapet

separating wall from void
of the hungry abyss down below
and further out the gleaming sea
splashing endless waves lapping
onto the yellow sandy beach

then he raised his arm
as if taking an oath
as if promising to come back
at another time when we’d need
one to stand against
the greed and gluttony of the few
who comfortable and fat as they were
dwelt in their satiation

the old castle that couldn’t tolerate
leaders with blinkers, creaked
as our hero insisted pointing to
the endless abyss towards the sea

and stepping on the parapet’s edge
he crossed himself over
before he flew into
the deliverance of emptiness

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