Μοναδική της σκέψη O único pensamento dela

ήταν ο θάνατος. Και τώρα λέω: era a morte. E agora digo: sabia
μια κι ήξερε que
ότι δεν ήταν τρόπος να τον não havia maneira de escapa-lhe.
αποφύγει, αντί να τον προσμένει

1.
Ritsos, Ισμήνη

2.
Ω, η αδελφή μου ρύθμιζε τα πάντα O, a minha irmã repetia sempre é
μ’ ένα πρέπει ή δεν πρέπει, preciso e não é preciso,
λες κι ήταν πρόδρομος εκείνης της como se fosse a precursora de
μελλοντικής aquela religião futura
θρησκείας

Ritsos, Ισμήνη

3.
The past for Ritsos is neither a hiding-place nor an overwhelming
presence. Instead it is evoked to define and celebrate the present not in
global terms but locally and nationally. The synchronicity in Ritsos, when
the modern Orestes stands before present-day Mycenae, does not serve
universalism and timelessness, for it manifests an awareness that modern
people can identify with the ancients in tackling questions of morality,
punishment and freedom. Synchronicity, in turn, moves from the ancients
the aura of mystery and greatness, presenting them instead as ordinary
human beings and not as elusive models.
Dimitris Tziovas, « Ritsos's Orestes: the politics of myth and the anarchy
of rhetoric »

4.

« Nul besoin de remonter à l’Antiquité. Ce monde grec, qui s’enracine

dans son impossible ressemblance, est-il jamais sorti de la vie quotidienne
? Agamemnon, Ismène ou Iphigénie sont parmi nous. Il suffit d’interroger
les affiches, le nom des rues, la rumeur publique, les mots d’ordre. Les
Grecs ici sont de retour. On les prendrait pour des fous s’ils se prenaient
pour eux-mêmes. Délivrés de leur identité, ils sont rendus à leur destin
propre en chair et en os. »
Dominique Grandmont, in Yannis Ritsos, Le mur dans le miroir et autres
poèmes, « Préface » p. 22-23.
5.

εσύ θα κρατήσεις E tu chegarás

την ύστατη νίκη, και τη μόνη
(όπως είπες),
τη γνώση αυτή τη μελιχρή και
τρομερή: πως δεν υπάρχει καμιά
νίκη.
Até a última vitória, e a única
(como disseste),
o conhecimento doce e terrível:
que não há vitória nenhuma

Ritsos, Ισμήνη
6.

Τα μεγάλα ρολόγια στους τοίχους σταμάτησαν.

Os grandes relógios das paredes pararam.
7.

Oedipus Call me anything you like, for you are Jocasta, whom I love.
Nothing will change that… So let me be your husband or your son. Names
or epithets cannot change the love and affection rooted in the heart […].
For you will always be Jocasta. No matter what I hear of your being my
mother or sister, this will never change the actuality at all. For you are
always Jocasta to me.
Jocasta Oedipus! You whom I cherish more than myself. Don’t try to
lighten the effect of the catastrophe on me… The actuality is as you
described it, but the truth, Oedipus… What shall we do with the
screaming voice of truth.
Tawfiq el-Hakim, Plays, Prefaces and Postcripts. Volume One. Theater of
the Mind.