The Forest on Fire
The forest on fire, filling the screen,
catches your eye, the living torches
of the towering pines, the sore soles
of the koalas, the bent skeletons
of the verandas. You notice at last
the whale on your doorstep,
led astray, stranded, gasping, or
the regal white bird, its wide wings
spread out on your beach, already
choked on your civilisation. Where
is the lark? Half your precious planet
is about to be razed. Face it.
When you rush out now to fight
the fire, the flood, and the festering waste,
do you not know it is too late
for you, yourself? The biting fumes
are invisibly running in the rivers
of your blood, the glittering garbage
is secretly heaped in the caves
of your bones, the drugs and counter-drugs
skip around in your brain. Doomed
you confess to be? You are due,
overdue. Half your precious life
has already been cancelled. It’s gone.
Christina Egan ©2021
LIFE CYCLES
Frühlingsanfangsvorfreude
Frühlingsanfangsvorfreude
Das Spiel des Lichtes und das Spiel der Winde
auf goldnem Haar und goldnem Mauermoos,
die Käferlandschaft rauher brauner Rinde
und große Schmetterlinge, schwerelos…
Hundertmal dieselbe Runde drehen,
wenn zuletzt die Lebenskraft verfällt,–
aber nie hat man sich sattgesehen,
nie am Erdkreis noch am Himmelszelt!
Blaue Gaukeleien: Himmelssplitter!
Feuerfarbne Falter: Funkenflug!
Vogelchor, Geläute und Gewitter,–
niemals trinken Aug und Ohr genug.
Christina Egan ©2023
The title means “Looking forward at the beginning of spring” in one word: “spring-beginning-forward-joy”! A poem about old age, full of hope and zest. It was written on spring equinox, after a walk round the block with a very aged person. Poignantly, soon after, the person grew too weak for walks.
The Komodo Dragons
The Komodo Dragons
The roots of the forest are trembling,
the branches are frosted with fear.
The jeeps and the tanks are assembling.
The komodo dragons are near.
Their skin’s like the ice on the river,
they graze and they raze all that breathes.
The roofs of the cottages shiver.
The earth has gone silent. She grieves.
The earth has lost too many children
before the full moon could return.
The komodo dragons are grinning.
The roofs of the cottages burn.
The stable aflame and the steeple –
the ice on the river now thaws.
This is not the war of the people.
This is the triumph of the jaws.
Christina Egan ©2022
This poem was published (as The Comodo Dragons) in the Haringey Community Press (circulation 15,000) in May 2022.
Komodo dragons got their name because they appear to be mythical creatures, but are real animals, huge lizards which can devour their prey almost without trace.
Two years ago today, the Ukraine was brutally attacked by the military machinery of another country.
When we fear with and grieve with the Ukraine, there are always echos of the Second World War, the First World War, and other wars. My verse is influenced by the famous sonnet Andreas Gryphius wrote in the midst of the Thirty Years’ War, Thrähnen des Vaterlandes / Anno 1636 (Tears of the Fatherland).
Nachruf auf einen Gärtner
Nachruf auf einen Gärtner
Abertausend goldne Nüsse
trug der weite Walnussbaum,
warf sie kraftvoll und gelassen
an den Schuppen, an den Zaun.
Abertausend süße Bissen
brachte er aus sich hervor,
zu bescheiden, um zu wissen,
was die Welt an ihm verlor.
Christina Egan ©2020
This poem was written for my uncle, who was a professional and passionate gardener.
It is published in the calendar, Münsterschwarzacher Bildkalender 2024 (circulation 80,000) with the photo above.
Dasein (Herbstanfang)
Dasein
(Herbstanfang)
Gleich einem lichtgefleckten Fichtenpfad,
bevor die ersten schweren Tropfen fallen,
erstreckt sich der Septembernachmittag
vor uns, als sei die Welt ein Wohlgefallen.
Wir dürfen auf die Wolkenschiffe steigen
und mit dem Bussard über Wipfeln stehn!
Obgleich die Strahlen sich ab morgen neigen,
wird unsre Schale langsam sich erhöhn.
Die Dächerschar erglüht im ersten Dämmer,
das Auge badet sich in buntem Glück…
Wir können unser Dasein nicht verlängern,
vertiefen aber jeden Augenblick.
Christina Egan © 2019
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2013.
Tabucchis Blau
Tabucchis Blau
hochsommerhimmel
über Lissabons hügeln
so blau daß es beinahe beißt
so schön daß es beinahe schmerzt
und vor der gleißenden steilen
vielfach verschachtelten stadt
ruft mit demselben trunknen blau
die bucht dir unbeirrbar zu:
du stehst immer am anfang
einer entdeckungsfahrt!
Christina Egan © 2012
„con… il sole che splendeva, e con una città che scintillava, letteralmente scintillava sotto la sua finestra, e un azzurro, un azzurro mai visto, sostiene Pereira, di un nitore che quasi feriva gli occhi…”
Antonio Tabucchi, Sostiene Pereira
Antonio Tabucchi (1943-2012) loved Lisbon and lived there. I wrote this poem for him when he died: his last voyage would be the one to another, even more beautiful world. The last line can, however, be interpreted in many other ways.
Illustration: “Elba — Land der Esel” by Ottilie Ehlers-Kollwitz (1955). With kind permission of Galerie Klaus Spermann.
Wetterfahne / Weather-Vane
Wetterfahne
Jemand muß die Wolken jagen…
Jemand muß die Bäume fragen:
Seid ihr glücklich? Seid ihr satt?
Jemand muß den Regen ahnen,
eher als die Wetterfahnen,
eher als das Espenblatt.
Jemand muß die Sonne sichten,
Frost und Feuer in den Lüften
und den ungeheuren Sturm.
Jemand muß die Schwalben fragen:
Wird die Erde uns noch tragen?
Wetterfahne auf dem Turm!
Christina Egan © 2018
Weather-Vane
The weather-vane is turning,
the sinking sun is burning
and burnishing its gold.
The slender birch is swaying,
its golden veil is fraying…
The year is getting old.
The weather-vane is creaking,
the cold and damp are seeping
into the window-frames.
The golden flag is flashing,
the elements are splashing
their vigour into space!
Christina Egan © 2018
These two poems about weather-vanes were written on the same November day, but are not versions of the same text.
The first one alludes to a sensitive and at the same time sensible person, who keenly feels changes in weather and climate — and asks how long we shall be able to live on this earth.
The second one describes sunset and autumn as images of ageing — and at the same time celebrating life!
Gut Hasselburg, Holstein, Germany; Bruce Castle, Tottenham, England. Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014/© 2017.
Coal Tits / Leaf Surf
Coal Tits
Coal tits are weaving through the leaves,
leaves tinged with gold and tinged with rust;
the earth, relieved of darkness, breathes
before the leaves will turn to dust.
Coal tits are chirping in the leaves,
wings tinged with fire, tinged with ashes;
their song is weaving with the breeze
through our windows’ rigid meshes…
Christina Egan © 2017
Leaf Surf
The lawn lies like an emerald bay,
like golden sand the fallen leaves.
The wind is waltzing on the roofs,
the wind is leaping through the streets,
it rolls into the shimmering heaps,
it stirs them up, it whirls them up,
it sweeps a wilful whispering surf
onto the sun-bathed autumn turf!
The earth takes one last joyful breath
before the shade falls like a spell.
That there is so much death in life
and so much dancing life in death…
Christina Egan © 2017
Photograph by makamuki0 (Marc Pascual).
explosion der rosen
explosion der rosen
wir warten auf den goldenen oktober
ein kuppeldach aus himmelblauem glas
auf rote zungen überm alten zuber
brilliantensplitter im erfrischten gras
wir warten auf die explosion der rosen
auf pilze wie verwunschene gehölze
und auf die falsche pracht der herbstzeitlosen
als ob die welt sich nicht schon stumm bewölkte
als ob der glanz nicht mündete in moder
die dahlie wie ein feuerwerk verginge
wir warten auf den goldenen oktober
und tauschen küsse wie brilliantenringe
Christina Egan © 2017
Dahlia Garden in Fulda, Germany, in October.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2010.
your face of snow
your face of snow
your face of snow
your eyes of ice
will blur and melt
with sweet surprise
your eyes of ice
will blur and melt
with sweet surprise
your cheeks of dawn
of smooth white stone
will blush and throb
with flames unknown
of smooth white stone
will blush and throb
with flames unknown
your lips of pearl
encasing dreams
will blink and burst
with bright new beams
your face of snow
your eyes of ice
will bloom and burn
a rainbow’s rise
Christina Egan © 2004
A story where nothing ever happened
The greeting in your eyes, radiant.
The answer in your eyes, immediate.
The longing in your eyes, innocent.
The promise in your eyes, infinite.
Christina Egan © 2004
Glass flask by Eugenes, found in Syria, 3rd c. AD.
Photograph: © The Trustees of the British Museum.
Christina Egan 