Sunday, May 17, 2009



Yannos Ritsos

I hide behind simple things so you'll find me;
if you don't find me, you'll find the things,
you'll touch what my hand has touched,
our hand-prints will merge.

The August moon glitters in the kitchen
like a tin-plated pot (it gets this way
because of what I'm saying to you),
it lights up the empty house and
the house's kneeling silence---
always the silence remains kneeling.

Every word is a doorway
to a meeting, one often cancelled,
and that's when a word is true:
when it insists on the meeting.

Wave upon wave, the flowering continues. Just as the tulips drop their petals, the lilacs begin. There cannot be a more beautiful place on this earth.
In my yard, the grass had grown higher than my knees and I am a tall person. Reluctantly, I mowed. I must drive my neighbors to distraction. Here, the newly used lawnmower, tired after its first ordeal, gazes lazily at the river.
Where have I been? Mostly taking care of these crazy nut cases!