The Third One

The three of them sat before the window looking at the sea.
One talked about the sea. The second listened. The third
neither spoke nor listened; he was deep in the sea; he floated.
Behind the window panes, his movements were slow, clear
in the thin pale blue. He was exploring a sunken ship.
He rang the dead bell for the watch; fine bubbles
rose bursting with a soft sound - suddenly,
'Did he drown? ' asked one; the other said: 'He drowned.' The
third one
looked at them helpless from the bottom of the sea, the way one
looks at drowned people.

-yannis ritsos

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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