Ritsos was a poet who lived inchaotic but exciting times, and likeOdysseus, was fated by the gods totake the scenic way home. I am awedby the integrating expanse of his gazeand by the process of his mind that wasable to distinguish between reality andits representation… and also by the sensememory in things he projected – things lost– but still things yet to be gained. He was apoet who survived the enchantment of rival impulses,as well as a poet who celebrated the sacredreturn of the imagination out of the deep oceanthat contained him.– Ilya Tourtidis, M. Ed.,University of VictoriaRitsos is always Ritsos. He suffered much personal andpublic violence, in the autocratic Greece of the 20th century,but his poems resist judgment. They flower with the force ofhumility and pathos. We readers are his brothers and childrenand comrades, under the hot sun which is and is not a god,beside the “endless sea.” Love trumps Death. Every object is awake.“Every hour is our hour.”– John Wall Barger, Lecturer atSt. Mary’s University, HalifaxEach poem is a snapshot of a place in time, of a moment in a life,of a story being told. The reader is invited to browse througha truly amazing anthology of observations, both personal andpublic. This collection reflects a depth and vastness that must besavoured and digested, revisited and reviewed.– Cathi Shaw, Ph.D., CommunicationsInstructor, Okanagan CollegeTranslated by ManolisEdited by Apryl LeafYANNIS RITSOSPOEMSSELECTED BOOKSBachelor’s Degree in Political Scienceat Panteion Supreme School of Athens.He served in the armed forces for twoattended Simon Fraser University fornon-degree program. He has writtencollections of poetry, which are slowlyappearing as published works, variousdriver, and stock broker, he now livestime writing, gardening, and traveling.Surrey, British Columbia with the goalPOEMS SELECTED BOOKSTranslated byManolis Aligizakis$34.00 ISBN 978-1-926763-07-1YANNIS RITSOS
Ritsos was a poet who lived inchaotic but exciting times, and likeOdysseus, was fated by the gods totake the scenic way home. I am awedby the integrating expanse of his gazeand by the process of his mind that wasable to distinguish between reality andits representation… and also by the sensememory…
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