Tristichs by David Harsent

after Yannis Ritsos

A wind off the mountain
fills the bedrooms:
fir trees, pines, cypresses, an eagle.

***

Now he knows your secret
he will keep it always
on the very tip of his tongue.

***

Rose-pearl light of dawn. Three boats,
barely visible. Flowers in one; in another,
oranges; in the third, my mother.

***

Soft smoke clinging
to roof tiles:
oh, Ithaca, Ithaca

***

White lights of noon.
White marble statues.
That white bird knows my mind.

***

At the tomb of the Unknown Soldier
we remember
how well we forget the dead.

***

You naked in bed beside me.
Me beside you in bed, naked.
The owl is a liar; don't listen.