Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume III


They were mending nets, baskets, lamps all afternoon;

the weather looked very good for fishing: low clouds

the gray-blue of the sky had faded away. When night came

we could see from the village shivering lights in the sea

as if it was us fishing in the opposite direction; soon

we got tired from that vague certainty. We went to bed.

We never found out whether they caught any fishes.



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