Yiannis Ritsos

« Ces galets blancs sur ta table nue s'illuminent au soleil. Personne ne devine de quelles profondeurs ils furent repêchés. Personne ne soupçonne au prix de quelles plongées risquées tu les as remontés ; au prix de quelles privations et de quels renoncements tu les arrachas aux griffes des coraux et des rochers. C'est pour cela qu'ils rayonnent si blancs dans leur humble fierté »

"Ne pleure pas sur la Grèce, - quand elle est près de fléchir avec le couteau sur l'os, avec la laisse sur la nuque, La voici qui déferle à nouveau, s'affermit et se déchaîne pour terrasser la bête avec la lance du soleil".

Dans ce recueil, publié en 1981 à Athénes, le poète dépasse les culpabilités d'une religiosité frileuse et craintive. L'amour n'est plus un péché. Résistance à toute oppression et épanouissement intime trouvent à s'y accorder.

«Dans ce pays, le ciel ne diminue jamais un seul instant la flamme de nos yeux Dans ce pays, le soleil nous aide à soulever le poids De pierre que nous avons toujours sur nos épaules Et les tuiles se brisent net sous le coup de genou de midi Les hommes glissent devant leur ombre Comme les dauphins devant les caïques de Skiathos»

This work of Ritsos, is it a novel with an emphatic question-mark added by the poet himself? Is it a roman fleuve in the sense of the Proust's "Remembrance of things past"? Is it a wild prose-poetic fling in a "sarcastic climate"? Or is it an autobiography of Greece's most human poet, whom Aragon hailed as the "greatest poet of his time"? And what about the strange title? How are the established Orthodox saints, traditionally decorating the panels near the altar, how are they replaced by anonymous human beings? -everyday people from Ritsos' neighbourhood members of his family and simple inhabitants of Monemvasia; unassuming fellow-prisoners on exile islands and a closely-knit band of friends. [...]

This work of Ritsos, is it a novel with an emphatic question-mark added by the poet himself? Is it a roman fleuve in the sense of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past? Is it a wild prose-poetic fling in a "sarcastic climate"? Or is it an autobiography of Greece's most human poet, whom Aragon hailed as the "greatest poet of his time"? And what about the strange title? How are the established Orthodox saints, traditionally decorating the panels near the altar, how are they replaced by anonymous human beings? - everyday people from Ritsos' neighbourhood; members of his large family and simple inhabitants of Monemvasia; unassuming fellow-prisoners on exile islands and a closely-knit band of friends. All these "anonymities" are skillfully counterpointed with the hero - Ion - and Ion's alter ego - Ariostos - and woven into a fascinating tapestry of reminiscences and reflections, vivid memories from childhood and adolescence, speculations on Greece's recent history, confessions bordering on psycho-analytical introspection, and, occasionally, surrealistic dreams. Ritsos' Iconostasis is embellished with an almost Joycean richness of words, including outrageous puns, unprecedented, though ineffably "poetic", erotica and miraculous flights of language. In Part Three, Ritsos adds the finishing touches to his vast mosaic bringing his visionary cycle full circle. A.M.

This work of Ritsos, is it a novel with an emphatic question-mark added by the poet himself? Is it a roman fleuve in the sense of the Proust's "Remembrance of things past"? Is it a wild prose-poetic fling in a "sarcastic climate"? Or is it an autobiography of Greece's most human poet, whom Aragon hailed as the "greatest poet of his time"? And what about the strange title? How are the established Orthodox saints, traditionally decorating the panels near the altar, how are they replaced by anonymous human beings? -everyday people from Ritsos' neighbourhood members of his family and simple inhabitants of Monemvasia; unassuming fellow-prisoners on exile islands and a closely-knit band of friends. [...]

Nelle settantadue poesie brevi del Loggione (scritte a metà degli anni Ottanta, ma pubblicate trent’anni più tardi) Ghiannis Ritsos, uno dei poeti greci più significativi del XX secolo, monta il proprio scenario: costruisce città, porti, strade e villaggi, ravvivandoli coi colori delle attività umane e i suoni della vita quotidiana – segni e simboli insieme. In modo apparentemente casuale, il poeta allinea sapientemente parole che toccano le corde più riposte nell’intimo del lettore. Spettatori dal Loggione, ci abbandonia­mo a un’emozione profonda: quella dell’autentica poesia.

Au déclenchement de la Seconde Guerre mondiale, en 1939, Y. Ritsos écrit un long poème constitué de 39 chants. Face à la déferlante nazie, il lance un cri d'espoir, une tentative de libération, à travers un texte évoquant la houle de la mer.