Purple Wine
I.
Deep purple and pure is this wine,
the midsummer’s fire condensed,
expanding inside me, immense:
your kiss – you are finally mine.
II.
There’s twenty-one words on the paper,
of wine and a night I forgot:
yet flowers and fruits bore my plot,
your kiss sparkles many years later…
Christina Egan © 2005 (I) / 2020 (II)
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2016.
Die Welt ist still
Ich sitze unter einem Baum
im Blätterzelt, im Schattenkreis;
die Welt ist still und bunt und heiß,
hoch oben wölbt sich weißer Flaum…
Ein Sommertraum.
Der stolze Pomp war Schall und Schaum,
die rasche Mode Funkenflug,
das Tretradtreten war Betrug!
Ich sitze unter einem Baum,
man glaubt es kaum.
Das Bildgewebe war ein Zaun,
ein Katzengold der ganze Schatz,
ein Karussell die ganze Hatz –
Die Ruhe schafft dem Atem Raum:
Frag’ nur den Baum.
Christina Egan © 2020
For English poems from the Covid-19 lockdown,
see Notnormal and the parallel texts Hidden Rivers /
Verborgne Flüsse.
For those who were not ill with the terrible virus,
the key experience may have been, paradoxically:
I can breathe… For once, there was time to breathe —
and air to breathe!
Your face, lit up,
perhaps, by me,
eclipses morning star and moon –
one word from you,
or more, maybe,
would freeze the clock at burning noon.
Don’t stop your step,
don’t hold your breath,
don’t soothe yourself it is too soon:
this is the life
as strong as death
that you have craved for. Let it bloom.
Christina Egan © 2004
Green Lagoon
(Lanzarote)
Down the cauldron of the mountains,
on an island like a moon,
down the sooty, rusty hollows,
you will find the green lagoon
where your destiny is brewing,
where new dreams are bubbling up,
where the sky is pure and glowing,
where the earth is fresh and hot!
Christina Egan © 2015
Crater Lakes
Afar, I’ve seen the keen and tranquil green
of crater lakes, like mirrors of my dream…
And now I turn to look into your eyes
and find the same mysterious silver gleam
and realise my dream’s materialised.
Love happens, blossoms, thrives – and never dies.
Christina Egan © 2011
Please also note my poems about the green crater lakes at Kaali, Estonia (Der Erde Auge) and at Sete Cidades, Azores (Sonett der drei Seen).
Green Lagoon, El Golfo, Lanzarote. Photograph: Justraveling.
Blue Cloud
Framed by the rubber
of the rolling windows,
the shifting squares
of terraced houses,
the sliding panels
of allotment fences
it appears
again:
a bolt of blue,
the sky in a cloud,
an armful of May –
my cyanothus!
And masked and
unfolding again
and past and
afloat in my eyes…
Christina Egan © 2008
A tiny light-blue Cyanothus. The one in the poem was a massive tree with almost indigo flowers. I never cease to marvel at the blue blossom. See also Under the Blue Bloom of the Tree.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
Sous les toits de Gand
Je suis toujours en vie
Et j’ai toujours envie
De vivre, de rêver
Des rêves énormes comme les nuages
D’été qui glissent au-dessus des flots
Et poursuivent leur pèlerinage
À l’infini
Des rêves résolus comme des bateaux
De bois solide et souple, à trois mâts,
Et qui soupirent pour un grand voyage
À l’inconnu
Je suis toujours en vie
Et j’ai toujours envie
De vivre, de rêver
Rêver
Penser
Et projeter
Des rêves somptueux comme les portails,
Autels et voûtes, les tours et toits de Gand
Ces fantaisies en marbre, gré et brique,
Ces fantaisies…
Des rêves généreux des bâtiments,
Des ponts et rues et tout cet éventail
D’une grande ville vraie et fantastique –
Ces bonds d’esprit…
Je suis toujours en vie
Et j’ai toujours envie
De vivre, de rêver
Rêver
Et puis
Réaliser
Christina Egan © 2018
The ancient, splendid, vast city of Ghent, Belgium. Photographs: Christina Egan © 2018.
In sternloser Nacht
In sternloser Nacht
ein Silberfleck auf dem Moos:
verirrtes Fröschlein…
In den Garten, ins Gedicht
und hinaus hüpfen Frösche!
In the starless night
a silver speck on the moss:
a little lost frog…
In and out of my garden,
of my poems, those frogs hop!
Christina Egan © 2017
For another tanka about frogs in honour of Basho, see Waiting for the Frog.
Frog pond. Note the tiny tadpole! Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014.
Durch uns durch
Der Baum des Lebens spannt sich himmelweit,
um uns herum und durch uns durch verzweigt.
Verwandt, verflochten sind wir,– Wirklichkeit,
die unterm windgepeitschten Widerstreit
niemand mehr wahrnimmt, niemand mehr bezeugt.
Die Menschenchronik spricht von Krieg und schweigt
von tiefverwurzelter Verbundenheit;
der mondenhelle Engelskodex schreibt
in Purpurlettern für die Ewigkeit
von durch und durch verwobner Menschenzeit.
Christina Egan © 2018
Codex Aureus of Lorsch, written around 810 AD in inks containing real gold or purple. Photograph: Wikimedia Commons.
The Letter that was Never Sent
It was of solid purple paper,
set out in blocks of golden ink,
an extract from a pagan gospel:
the letter that was never sent,
the letter that was never written,
but golden breathed in someone’s brain
and purple ran in someone’s veins –
the letter that was dreamt in vain.
Christina Egan © 2012
descending
from the rainbow-crossed twilight
down the narrow winding stairs
to the star-studded nightfall
from the church
to the crypt
from windows
to candles
descending far back in time
back into the sheltering earth
onto the threshold of heaven
from quiet
to silence
from proximity
to presence
the vaulted stairway awaits you
at the back of the ancient church
and hidden in your own heart
Christina Egan © 2018
(Sankt Andreas, Cologne)
This poem is best read very slowly, as if you were indeed walking down an ancient staircase at the back of a silent church…
Around the world-famous Cathedral, the twelve Romanesque churches of Cologne outdo each other in age, size, and beauty!
For German verse inspired by the mediaeval churches of Cologne, see Zugewogen, a poem on faith and destiny published in a previous edition of the Münsterschwarzacher Bildkalender.
Photograph by 3268zauber: Traces of colour from church windows on the floor in Baden-Baden, Germany.
I’ve Caught a Star
I’ve caught a star
and hold it tight,
it warms my heart,
it fills the night.
Yours is a kiss
as none before,
I know I need
now nothing more.
You are all men
and women, too,
the town, the land,
the earth are you.
You are the sun,
the sparkling day,
the magic moon,
the milky way.
You are the zest
upon my lip,
the only smile
that will unzip,
the only hand
that will hand back
each grain of corn,
each drop of sap.
Christina Egan © 2003
Christina Egan 