Yannis Ritsos (Yannis Ritsos 1909- 1990) is a famous Greek poet and one of the founders of modern Greek poetry. The dramatic monologue in the poem is its most unique feature.
Chinese name: Yannis Ritsos.
Mbth: YannisRitsos
Nationality: Greece
Place of birth: Vasia, maunier.
Date of birth: 1909
Date of death: 1990
Occupation: poet
Representative works: Epidufus
Role overview
Yannis Ritsos, a famous Greek poet in the 20th century and one of the founders of modern Greek poetry, was born in Monivasia. He came to Athens to study in his early years and worked as a clerk and actor. He began to publish his works in 1930s, and published the first book of poetry, Tractor, 65438-0934. 1936, he wrote a long poem "Epidafios" for the tobacco workers' strike in Thessaloniki, which was highly praised by the great poet palamas. During World War II, he devoted himself to the resistance movement. After World War II, he was imprisoned twice and his works were banned. It was not until the early 1970s that his works were published. Rizos was diligent and productive all his life. So far, he has published nearly 100 volumes of poems and other literary works, becoming the most widely read great poet in Greece in the 20th century. Many of his poems were set to music and widely sung, which had a worldwide influence. He has won many international literary prizes such as Lenin Peace Prize (1977) and has been a candidate for Nobel Prize in Literature for many times.
Characteristics of works
Rizos's poems can be divided into two categories: narrative long poems and short poems. The sentences in his poems are generally very long, and often reflect the life of modern Greeks with rigorous and concentrated sketching techniques, which is quite modernist. Its most unique feature lies in the "dramatic monologue" used in his poems, in which the sketching techniques include symbols, metaphors, transformations and surreal scenes, which reflect the real life and mental state of Greece and even the whole mankind, as well as some human thinking activities and activities that are beyond readers' imagination but do exist in real life. No wonder louis aragon, a French surrealist poet, praised his works by publishing "The Greatest Poet Today's Name is Yannis Ritsos" at 197 1.
works
our country
We climbed the hill and looked at the land;
Rare and barren fields, stones and olive trees.
The vineyard faces the sea. Next to the share
A small fire is burning. We left the old man's clothes in rags.
Ragged old people's clothes with inferior coal piles. Our days
To a small piece of bread and great sunshine.
A straw hat sparkled under the poplar trees.
The cock is on the fence. The cow is in the loess.
How do we try to make hands made of stone?
To clean up the house and life? Above the beam
Year after year, or Easter tears,
The little cross returns through the resurrection of the dead.
Show up there. How lovely and rich this land is.
Patience and dignity. Every night, the statue will come out of the dry well.
Climb up the branch carefully.
third
The three of them sat by the window watching the sea.
One is talking about the sea, and the other is listening. third
Neither speak nor listen; He is immersed in the depths of the sea; He is drifting.
Behind the glass pane, in the thin light blue
He moved slowly and clearly. He is exploring a sunken ship.
He rang the waste clock to see, and suddenly
Exquisite blisters rise with gentle sounds,
"Did he drown?" One asked; The other replied, "He drowned." that
third
Looking at them helplessly from the bottom of the sea, that look
It's like watching a drowning man.
summer
He wandered from one end of the beach to the other.
In the brilliance of sunshine and youth. Every time, so often.
Jump into the sea
Let his skin shine like gold and black like dirt. man
Send it out with women
A sigh of admiration. A few steps from the village.
A young girl came and grabbed his clothes piously.
There is always a distance-she won't lift her eyes to see him.
-A little angry
And happiness are hidden in her pious meditation. One day, they quarreled.
He wouldn't let her take his clothes. she
Throw them in the sand-only carrying his sandals;
She hid her sandals under her arm and ran away.
Behind her is a small and clumsy cloud.
Get up from her bare feet.
Men and suitcases
Don't put wet towels on the table.
It is time to start counting.
A month or so, another summer passed.
What a sad demobilization, leaving behind swimsuits and sunglasses,
Short-sleeved shirts, sandals and flashlights
The morning glow on the sea. Soon,
The outdoor cinema will be closed, and so will their chairs.
Coded in the corner. There are no more boats.
Go out to sea often. Home safely, lovely girl on the trip.
Sitting late at night, walking slowly past the swimmers,
Color photos of fishermen and female paddlers-without us. Our/our
The suitcase was packed in the attic, waiting to be found.
When are we leaving, where are we going now,
And how long it will take. You know that.
There are only a few lines in these shabby empty boxes.
A pair of rubber bands, no lonely flag.
Sitting outside in the rain
It rains here for the first time. A wet horse
Standing under the tree, in the dark of autumn.
When they pretend to chew a mouthful of hay,
Their eyelids droop. Maria
I want to comb my wet mane with her comb. can
The last person to leave in summer.
A hen cackled lewdly nearby. Looking at the hungry sparrows
How sad it is to jump over the fallen vineyard.
The clouds overhead are changing shape and flying away.
Crows are like black nails, but they hold them in the air.
Therefore, in just a few hours, Maria suddenly became old.
forget
A house with wooden stairs and orange trees,
Facing the huge blue mountain peak. The villagers gently
Walking around the room. Two mirrors
Reflect the singing of birds. Just,
There are two in the middle of the bedroom.
Old cloth shoes abandoned because of obsolescence. Therefore,
When night fell, the deceased came to the room again.
Collect what they left behind,
A scarf, a vase, a shirt and two pairs of socks.
Maybe it's because of poor memory or carelessness.
They took our things. The next day,
The postman passed by our door without stopping.
nine tenths
You know, death doesn't exist, he told her.
I know, yes, now I'm dead, she answered.
Your two shirts have been ironed. They are in the drawer.
The only thing I miss now is a little rose.
because
Because the bus stopped in front of the railing.
Because the doll is waving in the lighted window.
Because the girl is riding a bike and staying outside the grocery store.
Because the carpenter broke the glass door of the big beer hall
Because the child is alone in the elevator with a stolen pencil.
Because the dog was abandoned in a villa by the sea.
Because the rusty chopping board is covered with nettles.
Because the sky is as pale as salmon.
Because that horse on the mountain is lonelier than that star.
Because these and those are hunted.
Because of this, because of this, I lied to you.
prism
In those days, they often cried in front of others.
Not only boys with hairless mouths, but also adult men. Like that time.
The shipwrecked crew listened to the bard in the land of Feachers,
Lift the crimson cloak with his hands,
Cover your handsome face and start crying. However, please note:
This is a very appropriate and masculine posture, head.
Bend properly under the triangle formed at the elbow and below.
Red cloth-he really hides his feelings.
Or really strengthen it, or smell the cloak.
It was the daughter in that room who washed it by hand.
She is leaning against the doorpost at the moment.
By the oil lamp with three pillars, her cheeks were flushed.
Eyes blurred. That cloak is bound to spit out salt,
The fragrance of myrtle tree and the light point of sunlight leaking through clover.
Greek scene
He got off the horse and tied it to a huge mulberry tree to pee.
The horse looked at him. He patted it on the neck.
Well, son, he said.
The sun is crying loudly among the willows.
Cicada is becoming strong.
The shadow of the fig tree slammed against the stone.
A huge sail fluttered on the plane leaves.
The horse twitched its ear, sometimes this one,
Sometimes it's that, right down there.
Two young boatmen are rolling huge iron drums along the way.
After the rain
After the rain, there were some birds and a small cloud.
The sunset is quiet and colorful. crimson
Trembling on the water, accompanied by orange. Strange, he said
This is all the colors we see. In the carry-on kettle, they
Sell Christmas cards, chocolates and cigarettes.
The secret is to make you forget. They turn on the lights, and the patients
There was silence in the twilight. Under the tree, two stools.
A long table is for the guards. You know, he said
There is a strange fish that doesn't talk.
Penelope's despair.
Not that she didn't recognize him in the firelight; nor
Didn't recognize the beggar's rags, that disguise; Impossible: he has obvious signs-
Scabby knees, strong body, alert eyes. Scared,
Leaning against the wall, he tried to find some excuses.
Procrastinate, in order to avoid answering
Why did he betray? Wasted 20 years for him?
Twenty years of dreams and expectations are for this white beard.
An unfortunate man immersed in blood? He sat in a chair silently,
She stared at the murdered suitor on the floor as if watching.
Her own suffocating desires. Then she said, "Welcome,"
I noticed that his voice was distant and unfamiliar. Her loom is in the corner.
Projected on the ceiling with fine grid shadows; Those birds, faced with amazing
The green movies in the red years are intertwined, and suddenly
Turned black and gray on this night of going home,
Flying in the complete sky that she finally endured.
Penelope's husband has been exploring for 20 years, and she turned down countless suitors.