Fresh & Bright
My brain’s a tube called Fresh & Bright
which squeezes out, in green and white,
a train of thought for your delight
and your enlightenment alike.
My mouth releases bite by bite
its philosophic fluoride
to stimulate your fancy’s flight:
Take one by day and one by night.
Christina Egan © 2015
Epithalamium
A hundred snowflakes melting in your hair,
and every one a different ornament;
a hundred swallows weaving in the air,
each on its own encrypted message bent;
a thousand roses, beauty pure and bare,
each goblet filled with subtly varied scent;
a thousand leaves consumed in festive flare,
each spelling out its special testament…
So how much more are you – a human face –
unheard-of and unequalled in your blend?
I chose you from a thousand for your grace,
fulfilling and surpassing what I dreamt.
So by your side I take today my place,
while unnamed blessings blossom and descend.
Christina Egan © 2014
—
An epithalamium is a wedding song; a Continental sonnet
has 8 + 6 lines. Here, the first eight lines present images
from the four seasons; the last six lines state that humans are
more complex and individual than any natural phenomenon.
Some German poems on the uniqueness of each person can be
found at Einer von Millionen and Hieroglyphe.
First Autumn Days
(September Haiku)
*
Fiery flower,
still sucking sunshine, still scaling
the wooden fence.
*
The sky turns deep pink
above the first rusty leaves
and burning berries.
*
The moon, low and large,
a knob of solid silver
on heaven’s sceptre.
***
Erste Herbsttage
*
Feurige Blume,
noch saugst du die Sonne ein,
kletterst den Zaun hoch.
*
Tiefrosa Himmel,
erste rostrote Blätter,
brennende Beeren.
*
Der Mond, niedrig, groß,
solide Silberkugel
am Himmelszepter.
*
Christina Egan © 2015
*
Haiku have 5 + 7 + 5 syllables.
The German haiku are translated
from the English ones.
Queen of the Night to King Moon
I suck the moisture from the Martian sand
and spend myself in reckless rapid bloom.
I am the Queen of a vast sun-quenched land,
yet subject to the magic of the Moon.
—
Wüstenblüte
Sieh, vom Zauberstab des Mondes
angerührt mit sanfter Macht
sind zitronengelbe Sterne
wie Laternen still erwacht,
schütten Düfte in die Wüste,
todgeweiht nach einer Nacht –
desto größer, desto süßer
in verdichtet lichter Pracht.
Texts and photograph:
Christina Egan © 2014
—
You can find another photo of and poem about the Queen of the Night, Die Macht der Königin der Nacht, at the entry Green Blood.
The flowers indeed often come out with the full moon… and mostly last only one day… although they do last a second night.
Cacti must not stay outside overnight in a damp country: if their roots get too wet, they suffer and die. I only put them in the garden to make them and the insects happy… and the people!
ich liebe dich
ich liebe dich
ich suche dich
am apfelbaum
der geißblattbusch
umduftet mich
mit weiß und gold
ich liebe dich
ich finde dich
im fiebertraum
ein runder mond
verschwendet sich
verheißungsvoll
ich liebe dich
Christina Egan © 2015
—
These lines were inspired by my favourite poem ever,
the magical Ich liebe dich by Adelheid Bienmüller, which
once struck me on a calendar. Unfortunately, I have not yet
found this poet and her poem on the world wide web!
Later, I translated these lines as I love you well (I look for you).
On Orange Sails
On orange sails
across the ocean
of the sky,
towards the land
of lust and rest,
the butterfly
must toil and flail,
must drift and dream –
like you and I…
On orange sails
I still woo you,
my butterfly.
Christina Egan ©2014
Yellow Balloon
The matching dreams of you and me
are mellow streams of scented noon,
are yellow reams of solid silk,
to sew into a huge balloon
and blow it up with double breath
and fire it with blazing love
to sail across the heaving sky –
for us, the sea is not enough!
Christina Egan ©2014
There are more poems and a photograph at Orange Butterflies.
There is now also an anniversary poem about a Red Balloon!
Real dreams
The saxophone blows golden loops
of grief into the golden air…
Amongst the crowd, I am alone –
my life is cracked beyond repair.
The saxophone, the sinking sun
release a web of golden streams…
Not even memories are mine
but only memories of dreams.
The bus arrives and carries me
away from unrhymed elegies.
Not even real dreams are mine
but only dreams of memories.
Christina Egan © 2014
The plant on the window-sill
It is shining, it is glowing,
while the sun is rising high!
It is stretching, it is growing,
so am I, oh, so am I!
It is breathing, it is throbbing,
full of blossom, full of birth!
It is floating, it is bobbing
on the bubble of the earth!
Christina Egan © 2015
Die Macht der Königin der Nacht
In der Mittsommermitternacht
ist ein schneeweißer Stern mir erwacht,
eine bebende Blütenblattüte:
Mit heimlicher Königsmacht
hat ein Kaktus den Funken entfacht,
eine klare Trompetenblüte!
Christina Egan © 2013
The Tree at the Corner
I gather air and light,
I filter drop on drop,
till there is liquid life:
my waving hands’ green blood.
I give you air and shade
with my bright canopy,
till there is solid gold
through age-old alchemy!
Christina Egan © 2015
Was der Baum im Winter tut
Mit tausend nackten Zweigen hält der Baum
gleich einem gläsernen gewölbten Kelch
die Gänserufe und den Amselsang,
das gleißend hingegossne letzte Gold
und dann das Pfauenblau der frühen Nacht…
Und jene Stille wie ein Geigenklang.
Christina Egan © 2013
Photographs: Christina Egan © 2013/2014/2016
These lines portray plants as living creatures and active participants in this universe.
The non-descript pot-plant stays in its place, yet it gives and takes, grows and procreates — and presumably enjoys life, particularly in spring.
Around summer solstice, the humble cactus suddenly pushes out an unlikely flower, shaped like a trumpet and dazzling like a star: it has revealed itself as a Queen of the Night!
The everyday tree turns the inanimate elements into living matter; and it brings forth beauty even while that life turns towards death again in autumn.
Around winter solstice, the bare tree perceives the beauty of this earth — sunset and dusk, birdsong and silence — or at least, it forms part of this array for us.
Gingerbread Man
God made you of some gingerbread
which over time intensifies:
so that with every year, your breath
will taste of hotter, sweeter spice!
Christina Egan © 2014
—
We Married on the Ferris-Wheel
Vienna quivered in the heat
for our furtive feast:
we married on the ferris-wheel
(we kissed on it, at least).
The palaces shone yellow-white
like lemon cakes with glaze:
we married in the royal grounds
(we kissed within a maze).
That summer rolled into a ball
and down the hill of time –
Vienna basks in splendour still,
my bridegroom still is mine!
Christina Egan © 2014
—
String of Pearls
Your presence makes this globe that whirls
the best of all existing worlds —
your kisses make this blob a pearl
from which a string of worlds unfurls!
Christina Egan © 2015
—
Asteroid
He inhabits his own tiny planet,
a fragment of rock, you might say;
his orbit seems steep and erratic
and often immensely away.
Yet, what you can’t see from your garret
nor find in your smart telescopes:
it’s two of them snug on that comet
that’s studded with roses and oaks.
Christina Egan © 2010
Enamel
Dreams
made of enamel,
panels in peacock plumage,
in crimson and ivory patches,
in frames of gold.
Dreams
poured into pictures,
of wide-eyed faces,
of white-winged boats,
of bursting baskets.
Dreams
fished out of night,
luminous, solid,
age-old, valid,
with veins of gold.
Christina Egan © 2014
Image: Casket from court of Aquitaine (around 1180). With kind permission of the British Museum. http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/pe_mla/e/enamel_casket.aspx
Christina Egan 