Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Treacherous Signs

Yannis Ritsos

He was encased in plaster, body, hands, face.
He remained for hours inside that cellar-like dampness. He dried.
After that he took a deep breath; he spoke inside. Then
the plaster broke into two vertical halves; and he
remained upright, gracious, proud, between
the two hollows halves of this personal statue, knowing
that he could reclaim himself now from
the little plaster, clay, or even bronze — though always unknown, strange,
always with signs of the crack marking the point of union.

April 1, 1967

from Testimonies C (1967-1968) [Collected Poems Θ' -- pg. 307]

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