A. B. Γ.

Yannis Ritsos

Three large letters
written in whitewash along the spine of Makrónisos.

(When we arrived by ship,
twisted-in among our bundles and suspicions,
we read them from on deck
under the curses of the police, we read them
that quiet morning in July,
in the salty air with its odor of rigani and thyme
there was no way of knowing what those three white letters would come to mean.)

Concentration camp Alpha.
The Beta Camp.
The Gamma Camp.

MAKRÓNISOS

And the Aegean Sea was blue as always
completely blue, only blue.
Alpha —
Ah, yes, we spoke sometimes about a poetry of the open Aegean,
Beta —
about health's bare chest tattooed with an anchor and a mermaid,
Gamma —
about the sea-light that weaves curtains for the seagulls.

A. B. Γ.
300 killed.

We spoke, it's true, about a poetry of the open Aegean —
the crab that dreams upon the sea-damp rock,
against the golden-hued sunset
like a small bronze statue of the Ocean.

A. B. Γ.
600 killed.

(The glass-like shrimp darts through the shallows at the shadow of the morning star,
golden and blue summer casting pine cones at the sleeping girls at midday,
the old pines scratching their backs on the whitewashed fences.)

A. B. Γ.
900 killed.
Long live
King Paul!

(And Panagia of the sea draped in smoke at dusk
will walk barefooted along the sandy beach
tidying up the houses of the tiny fishes
attaching a starfish to her moonlit braids.)

A. B. Γ.

A. B. Γ.

(We spoke of a poetry of the open Aegean, yes, yes.)

MAKRÓNISOS —
MAKRÓNISOS — MAKRÓNISOS

And the sea is still blue as always
and the American fleet travels on the Aegean
peaceful, peaceful, beautiful,
and the stars light tiny fires each evening
the Angels will use to cook Panagia's fish soup.

A. B. Γ.

A. B. Γ.

While beneath the stars there passed
ships loaded with political prisoners
and bags filled with amputated legs
bags filled with amputated arms
bags filled with the dead
the storms in the lights of Lavrion boil over.

(The open Aegean landscape
golden and blue.)

A. B. Γ.

On these rocks the 300 of concentration camp Alpha were shot.
This sea wrack is from tufts of torn out hair and scalp
off the skull of a comrade that refused to sign a statement.

A. B. Γ.

The barbed-wire.
The dead.
The insane.

A. B. Γ.

(Blue, the sea — completely blue.
Golden open Aegean landscape.
The seagulls.)

A. B. Γ.

Black, completely black sea.
Black, completely black landscape.
The barbed-wire.

A. B. Γ.

Black, completely black landscape with clenched teeth,
red, completely red landscape with clenched fists,
black and red hearts lost in their blood
and a red sun lost in its blood.

A. B. Γ.

The barbed-wire.
The prisons, black inside the night.
And the cries from the prison, black all night.

HALT — HALT.
WHO'S THERE?
WHO'S THERE?
WHO'S THERE?

THE LAME
THE AMPUTATED
THE BLIND
THE INSANE
THE DEAD

HALT — HALT.

HALT.

WHO'S THERE?

THE DEAD.

THE DEAD.

They are asking for the bread that was kept from them.
They are asking for the sun that was stolen from them.
They are asking for the life that was cut off.

HALT — HALT.
From the prisons of the night
all night.

HALT.

— WHO'S THERE?

— THE DEAD.

— WHO'S THERE?

— THE INSANE.

— WHO'S THERE?

— WE ARE.

HALT — HALT — HALT.

The dead are seeking their lives.
The insane are seeking their sun.
The lame are seeking their legs.
The blind are seeking their eyes.
They are all seeking their freedom.

A. B. Γ.

From the beginning we were learning the alphabet.
From the beginning we were learning fear and pain.
From the beginning we were learning life and death.

A. B. Γ.

A. B. Γ.

A. B. Γ.

Seeing that we learned, comrades, how to die
we also learned how to live, comrades.
Freedom is near.

A. B. Γ.

SUN

A. B. Γ.

FREEDOM

A. B. Γ.

Alpha-beta — just a little longer, just a little longer.


August - September, 1951
Makrónisos

A. B. Γ. being recited in Greece


from Petrified Time (1949) [Collected Poems: Τα Επικαιρικα --- pg 299-304]