On the Volcano’s Rim

On the Volcano’s Rim

Goldstaub
(Lanzarote)

Hoher blauer Himmel,
weißer Wolkenflug,
ungestüme Winde,
rascher Schattenzug

über rote Halden,
über graue Höhn,
über grüne Matten,
wo schon Sterne stehn:

abertausend Blüten
wie ein Frühlingslied,
Goldstaub, den die Sonne
aus dem Erdreich zieht!

Christina Egan © 2015

Gold Dust
(Lanzarote)

Blue sky, ever higher,
white clouds in full flight,
winds wilful and forceful,
swift change of the light

across the red boulders,
across the grey height,
across the green lichen,
where stars tremble bright:

a flourish of flowers
and spring in a splash,
the gold dust the sun
can draw out of the ash!

Christina Egan © 2015

Dreaming Dragon
(Lanzarote)

Dew-drops sparkling in all colours
on the mighty coal-black craggy
shoulder of a dreaming dragon:
so these tiny tender flowers
perch on the volcano’s terrace –
fire, earth and wind distilled
to a dainty dotted quilt.

Ceaseless gales and sleepless fire,
ashes fed with salty dew –
ocean and volcano brew
flora’s early, lacy layer,
magic carpet in the air,
in the boundless brown and blue…
Dreams are real. Dreams come true.

Christina Egan © 2015

The Hoard
(Lanzarote)

As the mountain bears the flower,
as the giant holds the gem,
so the hour bears my poem:
purple speck on silver stem.

Where a myriad wild flowers
sprout behind the dry-stone wall,
I must gather all my powers
till the heavens hear my call.

Christina Egan © 2015

Valentine on the Volcano
(Lanzarote)

We dance on the volcano’s rim –
although its low and sunken side,
although extinct for centuries –
tossed partly by the wild wind’s whim
and partly drunk with liquid life –
suspended over sky-blue seas!
(I found my love above Teguise!)

Christina Egan © 2015

Plain and mountain range with very dark surfaces, rosy clouds in sky

The little volcano. Photograph: Christina Egan © 2015

These lines all sprang from one of the greatest experiences of my life: climbing a little volcano on the isle of Lanzarote, about which you can find a poetic description in German and English at Isle of Bliss / Insel der Seligkeit.

Gold Dust and The Hoard could equally be set in my native Rhön Mountains, also of volcanic origin, but very far inland and much greener.

The three poems in English only may work quite well in an automatic translator. The first two poems are translations of each other, or rather, parallel creations in German and English, where rhythm and rhyme required some changes in wording. It is better to do it this way, since the message is partly conveyed by rhythm and rhyme!

You could leave out the line in brackets to use the poem for a Valentine’s or anniversary card. Copy that line, though, into your list of places to see — both little towns, Teguise and Costa Teguise, because one has got the history and the other one the beach!

This handful of poems almost sums up my work: they describe plants and mountains and the sea; they refer to most basic colours; conclude with thoughts on art and religion and love; and use the beauty of language to capture the beauty of the world.

First Autumn Days / Erste Herbsttage

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.

ich liebe dich

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).

Poems about Roses, Life & Death

Poems about Roses, Life & Death

Vase_and_rose_02Sonnengelb

Im sonnengelben Tüllgewand
mit rosarotem Rüschenrand
schwankt sie im satten Bühnenlicht
von Gleichgewicht zu Gleichgewicht:
die königliche Tänzerin,
die Rose namens Harlekin!

Sunny Yellow

Dressed in sunny yellow gauze
hemmed with ruffs like rosy haze,
perfect poise in every pose,
in the lime-light there she sways,
dancing-girl of regal grace:
Harlequin, the motley rose!

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2013  –  Texts: Christina Egan © 2015

          The Giant Rose

Gdn_RoseRed_2009June

The giant rose, pale yellow, slightly flushed,
still opens and expands and grows more lush
            with every breath.
Yet its intoxicating scent deceives:
for through her delicate and ample leaves
            runs silent death.

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2009  –  Text: Christina Egan © 2013

Crimson silk

A cushion of crimson silk
and swelling still,

a mouth of countless lips,
of soundless words,

the red rose
stands

releasing its heavy scent
like crimson streamers, crimson streams,

until I feel it on my tongue
like ivory-coloured marzipan!

Christina Egan © 2015

Gelbe Rose

In Sonnengelb und Aprikose
reckt sich die prallgefüllte Rose
in ihrem reifsten Augenblick,
als eine Frau – in gelb gekleidet,
mit goldnem Haar – vorüberschreitet
mit schwebendem und festem Schritt.

Die Rose weiß noch nichts vom Welken,
entfaltet sich im hohen gelben,
vermeintlich abendlosen Licht…
Die Frau schaut lange, hält den Atem
in jenem festtagsbunten Garten,
wo ihre Jugend jetzt zerbricht.

Christina Egan © 2011

Sonnengelb and Sunny Yellow  are parallel creations. The flower in the vase and the flower in the painting looked exactly the same in their striking shapes and colours as well as in size and maturity…  

Gelbe Rose (Yellow rose) compares a rose in shades of apricot and sunflower and a woman with similar clothes and blond hair. The flower, at the height of her life, does not know that age and death are about to strike; but the woman does.

You will find more roses in the sonnet Der letzte Tag des Sommers ist gekommen.

Isle of Bliss / Insel der Seligkeit

Isle of Bliss
(Lanzarote)

The viscous flood of orange fire
gives birth to black and craggy rock;
The earth bereft of path and water
gives birth to wine of luscious stock!

The sweet white drop rolls on my palate,
the pure wild wind plays on my face…
And what was hurt is bound to heal here,
and what was loose falls into place.

Christina Egan © 2015

Insel der Seligkeit
(Lanzarote)

Die zähe Flut aus schierem Feuer
gebiert den schroffen schwarzen Stein;
die weg- und wasserlose Erde
gebiert den süßen weißen Wein!

Der wilde Wind kost meine Wangen
und jener Tropfen meinen Mund…
An seinem Ort liegt alles Lose,
und alles Wunde wird gesund.

Christina Egan © 2015

Lanzarote is part of the Canary Islands, off the
coast of North-West Africa.

The German and English versions of this song
of praise were created to match each other.

You can find more poems about Lanzarote in
German and English at On the Volcano’s Rim.

 

Ecce pratum purpuratum

Ecce pratum purpuratum

Bunte Blumen wünsch’ dir nicht,
einen Regenbogen,–
um die Farbe hat das All
bitter mich betrogen.

Weiße Blumen schick’ ich dir,
ewig unbeschrieben,
schwarze Blumen noch dazu,
schon dem Tod beschieden.

Statt der buntgefächerten
frohen sonnensatten
weiße Blumen wie der Schnee,
schwarze wie der Schatten.

Purpursamen streut der Lenz
über meine Wiese…
Bunte Blumen brech’ ich dir
erst im Paradiese.

Christina Egan © 2015

Tall flowers, each part in pale pink and deep purple - almost black and white

Photograph:  ‘Bachblüten’ (Meadow flowers). František Matouš © 2016


 

Ecce pratum purpuratum

Do not ask for flowers bright,
rainbow blooming boldly –
since the universe deprived
me of colours coldly.

Let me send you flowers white,
virgin leaves forever,
flowers black as sultry night,
life and death together.

From the fanned-out golden glow
on the merry meadow
take some flowers white as snow,
flowers black as shadow.

Purple blossom scatters spring
right beneath my eyes…
Purple flowers I shall bring
you in Paradise.

Christina Egan © 2015


The title is a Latin quote from the mediaeval song cycle Carmina Burana.
The German and English versions were created to match each other.

An der breiten Straße / By the Highway

An der breiten Straße

In des Stadttors Schatten steh’ ich,
Wo die Straße sich entrollt:
Und die Stadt ist nicht von Marmor
Und das Pflaster nicht von Gold.

An der breiten Straße sitz’ ich
Eine Stunde und ein Jahr:
Und ich träume, und ich hoffe,
Und ich warte immerdar.

Händler fahren ihre Waren,
Pilger ziehen aus und ein,
Gräber reihen sich allmählich:
Und ich werde selbst zu Stein.

Eines Nachts verkünden Sterne:
Gehe aus und such’ dein Glück!
Eines Tages bringst du’s hierher,
Denn die Stadt ruft dich zurück.

Christina Egan © 2015

Straight Roman road with ruins and trees to the left and right, in the dusk

Roman road in Carthage, Tunisia.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014

By the Highway

In the city gate I’m standing,
Where the outbound road‘s unrolled:
And the city’s not of marble
And the pavement not of gold.

By the highway I am sitting,
First an hour, then a year:
And I’m dreaming, and I’m hoping,
And I’m waiting, sitting here.

Merchants cart their goods to market,
Pilgrims visit and go home,
Tombs line up along the highway:
Slowly, I, too, turn to stone.

Yet one night some stars announce it:
Seek your luck now, seek your track!
And one day bring back your luck here,
When the city calls you back.

Christina Egan © 2015

This poem is timeless. A similar song is part of my play The Bricks of Ur, which is set 4,000 years ago. Another story from a highway outside a Roman city is Quo vadis?.View of Roman Cologne: a large neat grid of buildings with red tiles, located on flat land by a wide river“Roman Cologne, reconstruction” by Nicolas von Kospoth via Wikimedia.

This poem or song was inspired by ancient Roman tombs along Severinstraße, the straight road leading southwards out of Cologne, Germany (left in the picture). Artistic impressions of a Cologne city gate and a highway lined by tombs are online on p. 48 and p. 28-29 of Römer Straßen Köln. When I wrote the poem, I did not know that at times, Severinstraße was known as “Lata platea” or “Breite Straße” (“Broadway”)!

Postscriptum:  This was my first post ever! Roman roads and Cologne are two of my favourite subjects; so you can link to the texts covering them directly.