Fürst Schnee und Fürstin Mond
Fürst Schnee und Fürstin Mond
verwandeln rings das Land
mit sanftem Silberglanz,
wenn König Winter thront
und lenkt mit weißer Hand
den stillen Flockentanz.
Verschwunden ist der Staub,
versilbert ist das Schwarz,
vorweg verklärt die Welt.
Da wundert sich das Aug,
da weitet sich das Herz
bis an das Himmelszelt.
Christina Egan © 2017
Mild Christmas Eve
My heavy gate to heaven
has got a secret crack,
and sometimes sunlike flashes
steal through the sudden gap.
There are no stars this Christmas
but those in your sweet face,
no snow and sparkling crystals
but those in your embrace.
You are my splendid banquet,
you are the birth of mirth,
you’ll be my earth in heaven –
my heaven here on earth.
Christina Egan © 2004
Photograph by Gabriel Pollard [CC BY-SA 2.5].
Featured picture on Wikimedia Commons.
Kerzenbekrönt
Senkt sich die Dämmrung an frostigen Tagen
– früher denn jemals, doch zauberhaft blau –
hängt über stolzen gewölbten Mansarden,
hält über giebelgeschmückten Fassaden,
bannt aus dem Geiste das leidige Grau.
Stürzen Gestirne herab in Kaskaden
– feucht ist das Pflaster, doch goldengetönt –
spannen sich Perlen an Faden um Faden
blinkend und bebend von Laden zu Laden
bis an die Kirchtürme, kerzenbekrönt.
Christina Egan © 2016
This poem was inspired by a front page photograph of the superb newspaper Agora in Fulda, Germany, which I had folded over. Then I noticed that beneath the idyllic historical street lit up for Christmas, an industrial container had been inserted through photo montage: as a makeshift home for a refugee family. I felt I had to write a second poem, which you can find at Farbechte Hoffnung.
The street shown is Friedrichstraße, which gives you quite a good impression of past centuries, despite severe damage during the Second World War and ensuing changes. Fulda is quite good for midwinter holidays because of the Christmas Market, the nativity scenes in the churches, numerous festive events… and the snow in the mountains.
When the Snow Falls
When the snow falls,
when the snow calls
with its crystal-clear voice,
when the streets hum,
when the streets drum
with their boisterous noise,
when the fog shifts,
when the fog lifts
and the sun gilds the stone –
let your smile grow,
for a while know
you are never alone
Christina Egan © 2019
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
This poem was commissioned for a Christmas card by a university library.
Feel free to write or print it in your cards, as long as acknowledge me as the author somewhere.
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.
Remember November
Eight times the leaves have paled,
been plucked and swept away,
eight times the sun has waned
and steeped the days in grey;
eight times the loom of spring
has woven rainbow rugs,
eight times made blackbirds sing
between the bursting buds;
eight times the fruit has swelled
and, in its turn, the fog,
eight times the frost has quelled
the sap’s impatient throb –
Eight years my heart has found
its breath and path in you;
eight years it’s watched your mouth
for words as warm as true.
Christina Egan © 2005
This anniversary poem goes through the seasons, with a focus on autumn. You could change the title and the number of years if you want it for your own anniversary, perhaps even swap the lines, starting with spring.
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
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.
sonnenschein essen
I.
rot-goldnes feuerwerk
dichte garben unablässig:
die hohen wipfel am waldessaum
in der zärtlichen brise
schwarz geäderte kristallkugeln
feingefaserte korallenkegel:
die bäume zwischen den giebeln
gegen den steigenden tagstern
schimmernde rokokoperlen
und leuchtende granate:
die gelben birnen im laub
die roten äpfel im gras
II.
die welt betrachten
wie ein gemälde
bild um bild um
bild
den sonnenschein essen
wie brot
und das brot
wie ein geschenk
gleichgewicht
von tag und nacht
heute ist
heute
Christina Egan © 2018
Beach at Bansin on Usedom (Baltic Sea). —
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
Strandkorb Song
What happened to the beach-seat
we found in Germany,
the bench within a basket
beside the Baltic Sea?
The land was lush and sunlit,
the air was pure and free,
the dusk was full of magic,
the surf a mystery.
What happened to the beach-seat
placed there for you and me?
What happened to the footsteps
along the singing sea?
You said you won’t forget it,
the dusk, the moon, and me.
Where has it gone, the moment
of blue eternity?
We cannot leave the basket,
in space and time so far:
it is a secret casket
which holds a sparkling star.
Christina Egan © 2017
‘Beach baskets’ in Ahlbeck on Usedom.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
Strandkörbe, ‘beach baskets’, or hooded beach seats, are an alluring feature of German beaches on both seas.
The story refers to the Midsummernight Far North I have described before on this website. I have developed Strandkorb Song further as lyrics.
Christina Egan 