The Shadows of Birds: 64

Yannis Ritsos

64.
He saw the shadows of birds
upon the grass
he tried to measure the distance
between the bird and its shadow
an uncertain distance
later on
he set his keys on the table
closed his eyes
gave up measuring
he smiled to himself
inside the immeasurable
the obedience and devoutness
of mortality.

Athens—June 8, 1980

note: This is the final poem of this sequence. The Shadows of Birds, like other such sequences that Ritsos wrote, resembles a string of beads or a deck of cards, the small poems producing a cumulative effect as they arc through different themes and the poet's daily preoccupations. S.K.

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 374]

The Shadows of Birds: 63

Yannis Ritsos

63.
Distant indecisive
vague
hushed conversations
the head-lamps of miners
benches in the deserted square
a soldier
a soccer player
night comes
with monstrous fake
eyelashes
he hammers in a nail
he hangs up his clothing
lies down
the poem is left naked
at the corner of Koraki
and Papanastasio.

Athens—June 4, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 373]

The Shadows of Birds: 62

Yannis Ritsos

62.
He dug a hole in the ground
planted the three nails
it was already summer
so many student rooms
stood vacant
nights on the avenues
the trees and two green lights
played leading roles
perhaps that's why the statues
squinted their eyes
when watching
the hookers
the sunburned sailors
the three young performers
one dressed as Iphigenia
another as Electra
the third as Persephone.


Athens—June 3, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 372-373]

The Shadows of Birds: 60-61

Yannis Ritsos

60.
Gray morning
Thessaloniki gray
two boys with bicycles
one without
the old woman with a basket
the fisherman stone-still
one ship two ships
gray to the fifth
gray woman
shelling chestnuts
one bites into an apple
gray —
oh saint of gentleness
after death
everlasting.


61.
The others talked
scheme after scheme
Petros got mad
made a gesture at the sky
the rain picked up
the large posters were soaked
it poured off the band shell
in front of the microphone
the rain
recited your poem
not half bad
but rather beautifully
with small pauses
without running everything together
while the sergeant
and the five soldiers
left in the open jeep
for the airstrip.

Thessaloniki—June 2, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 370-371]

The Shadows of Birds: 59

Yannis Ritsos

59.
Beneath the trees
an evening of secretive birds
and their tiny whispers
a bed sheet
stretched out on the street
very white
still the boy from the restaurant
placed a glass of carnations
on the table
and another
climbed from the lake
sat at the empty seat
and ate
with the usual quiet motions
as you add up the dead
and forget.

Agrinion—June 1, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 370-371]

The Shadows of Birds: 58

Yannis Ritsos

58.
The musicians left
the last spotlight was shut off
over the stage on Stadio
there were only
flocks of paper birds
paper boats
and we with that restraint
hands in our pockets
so many stars on the street
so many cigarettes
Vassilis Panos Giannes
after midnight
the silent and the dead
folded blankets
under their arms
cast a glance down Stadio
and left once more.

Agrinion—May 31, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 370]

The Shadows of Birds: 56-57

Yannis Ritsos

56.
Faces hands feel their way
eyes feel their way secretly
they had promised the others
(who?)
on the street they lit matches
looked at their watch
already it was evening
an evening with posters and rental signs
with lit up street lamps
and the youngest dead
at the bus stops
along with Paskos
barely old enough to grow a mustache
what do you want? — he said —
I no longer sleep with women
I kicked the dry branch
I entered the house
very white very dark
not even one lamp.


57.
The moon in the puddle
passing headlights of automobiles
trees suddenly splashed with light
a fragrant dampness
all stopped
at the same time
nothing their return unforeseen
only that beneath the plane trees
red chairs are present
red tables
and lamps in leaves
and still fluttering from the balcony
your mother's black handkerchief
my child — she said —
he embraced the tree
and wept.

Agrinion—May 30, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 368-369]

The Shadows of Birds: 55

Yannis Ritsos

55.
They had left years before
and returned afterwards
as strangers
without luggage
without bandages
Saturday evening in the square
soldiers high school kids
small girls
lovers and the man
with undone laces
stumbling over invisible stones
the train grows late
the dead waited around
tossed their cigarettes on the street
the mud puddles
were all shining
from a single moon.

Agrinion—May 30, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 368]

The Shadows of Birds: 54

Yannis Ritsos

54.
Water and coal
song and stone
the bird and its cage
it and its shadow
tame
in love
everything falls
for the unattainable—
O deprivation O negation
antistrophe acceptance
affirmative.

Kalamos—May 26, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 367]

The Shadows of Birds: 52-53

Yannis Ritsos

52.
On the beach
torn nets
urchins and herring bones
yellow gourds
an oar
yourself and the sea
and overhead a seagull—
on his shoulders we place
the happened-upon words
and Euphranor's chisel.

note: Euphranor of Corinth was a 4th-century BC Athenian sculptor and painter


53.
Calls of birds
Calls of swimmers
both blue green
daisies on the hill
undergarments on rocks
and those that blend into the off-white
calm inconspicuous
until night comes
then from your window
undefended
you listen
discretely
to the discourse of stars.

Kalamos—May 25, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 366-367]

The Shadows of Birds: 51

Yannis Ritsos

51.
A pot of geraniums
at the gas station
a young man
with black hair
and muscular arms—
O what nurtured gentleness
what promised dreams
that pass by and depart
immovable within us.

Kalamos—May 20, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 366]

The Shadows of Birds: 50

Yannis Ritsos

50.
The day was filled with cicadas
an old water diviner
carried a basket
of fresh white eggs
he wasn't selling them
he took them to his son
on the hill
where the woodcutters
fell large trees
near the river
all night
the homeless birds called out
the women who listened to them
found their beds filled with
large pinecones
and daisies.

Kalamos—May 19, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 365-366]

The Shadows of Birds: 47-49

Yannis Ritsos

47.
Outside the wooden huts
a pack of dogs
tearing apart the dolls
of dead children—
meaning is evasive
in the clamor of the day
in the clean undergarments
hung out to dry on the rooftops
while Nikias
waves a white towel
from a window
and is lost inside me.

Athens—May 18, 1980

48.
The quicksilver of the moon
went down slowly
a violin case
left by musicians
remained on the chair
two sailors stayed late
behind the statues
where the lights of passing trains
transfixed them.


49.
Everything was done
without arbitrators
their hats
hung in a line
in the corridor—
outside
the sun was shining
a gas station attendant talked
with a girl—
these and those
concealed the most essential
but I searched for it.

Kalamos—May 18, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 364-365]

The Shadows of Birds: 44-46

Yannis Ritsos

44.
The wing on the right
red
the other on the left
white
Saturday mid-afternoon
springtime leaves
solitude
the locked-up mirrors.

Athens—May 17, 1980


45.
The cup of coffee
the teaspoon on the plate
three cigarettes
he tapped the table with his fingernail
tap tap and then another
tap—
will the drowned man
ever answer
from the garden well?
unless he's the one
who's tapping the table
with his one fingernail?
tap.

Athens—May 17, 1980


46.
Scorpions on the floor
tiny wheels
hairpins
drips of wax
the house smells
of feather down and perfume
the women
stand in front of the mirrors
using the combs of
the murdered.

Athens—May 17, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 362-363]

The Shadows of Birds: 43

Yannis Ritsos

43.
In the piazza of the church
the beautiful the downtrodden
a moonlit night
with his crutch he struck
his shadow on the marble—
the Metropolis clock
without any suspense
struck Twelve
unpoetic and
irrevocable.

Athens—May 16, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 362]

The Shadows of Birds: 42

Yannis Ritsos

42.
Discreet lights of avenues
beneath the trees
a bicycler talks
with a soldier
a drinking glass breaks
on the pavement
the orange juice sketches
a broad-shouldered angel
with one foot missing.

Athens—May 15, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 361-362]

The Shadows of Birds:41

Yannis Ritsos

41.
I'm not listening to you—he says—
I find the hill beautiful
the tree beautiful
the shadow of birds on the grass
and myself
beautiful—he says—
in the water or in the mirror
whatever you say
my part isn't diminished
in the river
or in a rose.

Athens—May 14, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 361]

The Shadows of Birds: 39-40

Yannis Ritsos

39.
He laid his hand
on his knee
close to the river
a large strong
hand
the river flows
filled with eels.


40.
Something large
causes us to be quiet
something nearly unallowable
won't look us in the eye
a little derision on its lips
a little bitterness
it's May
and the street is full of
itinerant fruit sellers
and paper boys.

Athens—May 13, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 360-361]

The Shadows of Birds: 34-38

Yannis Ritsos

35.
The shadow of your body
upon the earth
takes up more room
than your body
I dress in your shadow
dark invisible
photographic negative—
tomorrow it will appear
all in white
with a black fingerprint
outside the frame.


36.
They gather in his hair
winds bulls sparrows
an oak tree
its roots out of the earth
wind around his shoulder
cross the river
leaves fall from his lips
onto the water
cover up my reflection.


37.
Evening
three porters
large timbers on their shoulders
with the sea in the background—
in secret fellowship
with the lights of the bar
with the departing ships
with the sad young boys
with the women in make-up
the one wearing
a long purple dress
is outlined keenly
on the white pavement
perhaps through a fault of my own
or for my own benefit.


38.
Two old black pots
from a soldier's mess kit
among the nettles
near a heap
of white cuttlefish bones
and the shifty lizard
its one eye half-closed
is instructional
in this chance encounter.

Athens—May 12, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 358-360]

The Shadows of Birds: 29-34

Yannis Ritsos

29.
Time passes
colors fade
already a swarm of bees
obscures your face
your breast
I hear the buzzing of bees
of their shadows
when it pierces the regularity
of the music.


30.
We waited—
it was almost too late to shave
but he went to the bathroom
healthy good-looking
with wet hair
dishevelled only partly combed
shining here and there
perhaps from the gleam of the mirror
only at the very tip
on his left ear
a white dab of dried lather
betrayed our impatience
and his own guilt.

Kalamos—May 11, 1980


31.
The young people stripped
stayed a while in the sun
then lunged into the sea
the day was a blaze
it no longer had
trees
or telephone poles
on the only stone
a pair of black sun glasses
that nobody wore.


32.
The boys grew
their clothes became so tight
the bloom of their bodies
was revealed—
in chance encounters
at night
on the lighted streets
after they had wished us a good evening
they acted as if they had sinned
or as if we sinned against ourselves
looking with bowed heads
at their brown shoes.


33.
He now knew
the other didn't have to
wait alone for night to come
in front of the three statues
he threw his jacket on one
his pants on another
his shoes on the third
and naked he pretended to be
the perfect statue—
except for that small glint of saliva
at the corner of his mouth.


34.
A small white shirt
forgotten in the changing room
the wasp's tiny earthen turret
on a column
the guard on Stadiou Street
took a sour apple
from his basket
bit it
stood looking at the sunset
from the last shuttle
I watched him
the wasp and I.

Athens—May 11, 1980

from The Shadows of Birds (1980) [Collected Poems: IDelta ---pg 355-358]