Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume III


Strong sun reflections on the clean window panes

criss-crossing each other, the chimney of the small

house supplemented by the arias of the cicadas;

the sunlit sea was climbing up the road during

the high noon and was washing away paper bags,

watermelon seeds, newspapers; the afternoon was

empty. Nothing was left in the houses but the honorable

swaying of the white curtain and a sweaty handkerchief

on the big warm bed. 



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