English Poems

Fastenzeit / Lent

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Fastenzeit

An bitterem schwarzen Brot
nagt mein Mund.

An bitterer schwarzer Erde
nagt mein Herz.

Grauer Wind
fegt die Fluren rein.

Alles fastet
der Farbenfülle entgegen.

Christina Egan © 1985

—

Lent

My foot sinks
into bitter black earth.

My heart gnaws
on bitter black bread.

Grey wind
sweeps the fields clean.

Everything fasts
towards the flood of flowers.

Christina Egan © 1999

—

The church year mirrors the natural seasons  and symbolises our life events: voluntary renunciation in Lent corresponds to the hardships of winter or to emotional deprivation.

I shall shortly post a poem about Easter at ostermorgen, where faith in God and resurrection is linked to the renewed sunshine of spring and to the experience of communion and fulfilment.

Winter Sunrise in Morocco / in England

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Winter Sunrise in Morocco

Orange tree full of fruit and rose tree with large roses in front of high pink wallsthe rainbow scarf of the sky
stretched out above the battlements

awesome and unnoticed
by the markets which never sleep

and millions of golden roses
rolled out along the highways

in the carved and inlaid caskets
of the powdery-pink courtyards

strings of peach-coloured roses
clusters of orange-blossom and fruit

Christina Egan © 2012

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2012

You can read a German poem about a Moroccan city at In Marrakesch. The buildings and walls of Marrakesh are pink by law!

Around the turn of the year, I found it warm and sunny by day and pleasantly mild by night. In fact, people were hoping for some rain…

—

Winter sunrise in England

at the edge of the orb of the earth
a mighty web of finest twigs

painted onto leaf gold
by a master’s hand

and then the blob of molten gold
so bright that it seems to melt them too

like a favour from the heavens
like the face of a god

as if life were possible
one more day one more winter

Christina Egan © 2012

—

In northern Europe, the winter is so hard that by the beginning of spring, you may feel, even if you are not at all old, that it was the last one you reached.

In Germany, it is cold by day and by night for many months, there is snow and ice, and above all, the nights are long and the days often dull so that you may not see the face of the sun for days; in England, the cold is less bitter, but — which is worse — it reaches indoors…

Crystal Rock

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Crystal Rock
(Béziers)

View from Gothic cathedral, almost vertical, onto structures forming a pattern

You follow a hidden winding staircase
and step down inside a crystal rock.

You have become very small and dark
or the space around you tall and light.

You stand on the ground of a tower of ice,
a polygon of translucent stone.

Is it a cavern? Is it a glacier?
No, it’s a chapel beneath a chapel!

Gothic cathedral in winter, dark grey against light blue

It is a cell in an ancient cluster:
a grey cathedral crouched on a rock.

Your soles touch a surface beneath the soil,
your eyes reach a tent of light like the sky.

This staircase does not lead to a nightmare:
it should be baptised a lightmare instead.

That era should not be known as Dark Ages:
it ought to be honoured as Ages of Light!

Christina Egan © 2016

Photographs: Christina Egan © 2016

These lines refer to the same ancient town of Béziers as the last post, Roof-Tile / Plateau. There, you can see more views from the roofs of the Cathedral.

 

Roof-Tile / Plateau

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Roof-Tile
(Béziers)

Lower half shows ancient wall with lichen and moss, upper half houses and roofs with motley tiles

A roof-tile, grooved: a hill, a dell,
in broken ochre, earthy red,
with greenish circles in between;
a piece of world, of time a shred.

And then I see: the whole old roof
is such a patch of orange clay –
the whole old town in weathered brown,
resplendent in a tender ray!

Christina Egan © 2016

—

Plateau
(Béziers)

Roof with motley tiles - Detail of above photo

Life is a gnarled and narrow hill,
so steep as scarcely to be climbed:
you scramble, stumble, slide or fall,
you stay below, you stay behind.

Then opens, through a hedge or wall,
a gap, a gate, an avenue,
a whole plateau, a spilling well,
a plain beneath your startled view!

Christina Egan © 2016

—

Round basin in park, with trees, houses and statue mirroredTwo views from the ancient city of Béziers in France, which is piled up
on a couple of steep hilltops: the first view is from the Cathedral tower; the second, from the park called Parc des poètes / Plateau des poètes.

Well… the respite after struggles and setbacks might be found in enjoying or creating art — or in life itself!

Old Town of Beziers, with red roofs dominating, landscape round horizon.While getting lost and strained in the lanes of Béziers reminded me of nightmares, exploring the Cathedral like a giant Crystal Rock  induced me to create the word ‘lightmare’!

Photographs: Béziers from the Cathedral roof ; Parc des poètes. Christina Egan © 2016

A breath

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

A breath

A breath – to draw, no, to invite
the sky into your thirsty chest!
A splash of air – a spark of life –
a space of freedom, quiet, rest.
A sigh, a word, a simple rhyme –
a flash of meaning on your quest.

Christina Egan © 2016

Glass screen with patterns in black, white and gold, resembling surf and seagulls.

Un poème, de l’air, un peu de liberté,
un peu de sens dans la vie furieuse…

Jean-Marc Barrier

Ein Wort – ein Glanz, ein Flug, ein Feuer,
ein Flammenwurf, ein Sternenstrich –

Gottfried Benn

 

‘Rhizome’. Sculpture by
Laurence Bourgeois (Lô).

The Purple Sea / Das lila Meer

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

The Purple Sea

I’ve seen the sea turn indigo
and greyish green and brilliant blue:
the wine-red sea that Homer saw
was not a blind man’s dream — it’s true.

I’ve swum in waves of indigo,
I’ve swum in eyes of greenish grey:
the fair-eyed gods that Homer saw
may just for moments cross your way.

Christina Egan © 2015

—

Das lila Meer

Auch indigo färbt sich das Meer
wie gräulichgrün und leuchtendblau:
Wahr war das Weinrot des Homer –
nicht eines blinden Dichters Schau.

Im Indigo schwamm ich sogar
und auch in Augen von Grüngrau:
Ein göttlich lichtes Augenpaar,
das gibt es manchmal noch genau.

Christina Egan © 2015

—

The Wine-Dark Sea

Where sky and ocean form a line
of glassy indigo,
the water looks indeed like wine,
a strong and sweet Merlot.

This is the sea that heaped up rocks
and beckoned walls to rise,
the ageless mother of these flocks
of sun-enchanted isles.

This is the sea that brought the fleets
to Carthage and to Troy
on silver-green and bright-blue sheets
which wayward gods deploy.

Christina Egan © 2012

—

These poems refer to the debate around Homer’s strange colour names: e.g. ‘wine-coloured’ (‘oinops’) and ‘purple’ or ‘maroon’ (‘porphyreos’) for the sea; ‘green-eyed’ (‘glaukopis’) for a person or god with eyes of any fair colour.

While people in antiquity were not yet interested in describing colours and —
despite their sophisticated languages — had only very few words for them, I
believe that on occasion, these can be taken literally.

The first two poems are translations of each other. The colour adjectives oscillate between the languages, and within, just like the sea does…

Fiery Flowers for Valentine’s Day

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

RedFlowers_2015Dec15_06

To My Valentine

The lily licking like a fire,
the lily luminous like snow:
I find them both in you, my flower,
I bask in their contrasting glow!

Christina Egan © 2016

 

Two nasturtium flowers in very strong orange with some of their large round leaves in fresh green

 

Zum Valentinstag

In dem feuerfarbnen Blumenstrauß
hab’ ich dir die Sonne eingefangen,
hab’ sie hingezaubert in dein Haus,–
hast du meine Botschaft mitempfangen…?

Christina Egan © 2012

—

Often, I translate my own verse, but these are two different Valentine poems.

Photographs: Flowers just before Christmas! Christina Egan © 2015

February Sparks

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

February Sparks
(February Haiku)

Grey on grey the street…
Lightning strikes – the sun reflected
in a windscreen.

*

Stalks thrusting upwards
like spears with golden points:
armies of daffodils.

*

The crocus carpet
is being woven for us
by day and by night.

Christina Egan © 2014 

—

I wrote these haiku, and am posting them, at the hardest time of the year: when cold and darkness have used up our reserves and spring has not arrived yet. However, bright signals of light and life surround us!

Winter Views from the Bus

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Winter Views from the Bus

*

Pink watering cans
lying flat in the drizzle,
dreaming undisturbed.

*

The yellow front door
in the long row of houses:
It stands out. It smiles.

*

The moon, veiled in mist,
floats in the darkness above
the bright white clockface.

*

Christina Egan © 2012

—

I was looking at the clocks of St Pancras Station at
King’s Cross, but you could equally observe Big Ben.

There is no ‘London fog’ any more since coal fires were
outlawed — yet there are still a lot of mist and fumes…

In northern countries, there is very little colour in winter,
so you need to look out for splinters of colour and rejoice!