Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Common Fate

Yannis Ritsos

From one rented room to another — a suitcase,
a table, a very old bed, a chair;
the straw mattress stained by bed bugs and by sperm.
No one had a house of their own — everyone was constantly moving.
Our common fate — he says — it's reassuring. Just like this tree,
stationary, calm, blossoming, in a world of its own;
completely preoccupied with its flowering — it looks at nothing —
reflected in the large, inexplicable, glass door.

June 14, 1968
Partheni concentration camp

from Stones [Collected Poems:I ]

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