The Third One Poem by RIC BASTASA

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