Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Selected Books, Volume III

Waking Up

Who was the one who slept early and just woke up

floating amid the hanging plane tree branches,

between two big wide open windows and the cicadas,

beyond time, forgotten, forgetting

listening to the sudden thud of the bucket in the courtyard

looking at the cart-man, with his horse, climbing up the sky?

The voice of the hotel woman down below is stiffened

by the loud chirps of birds. The sound of the broom pushing

the leaves off the marble stairs. They all move higher, higher:

doors, water pitchers, baskets. Hands have the first startle

of Adam and Eve. Children, born today, have one

light-blue eyebrow and one golden.


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