Mond und Morgenstern

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Mond und Morgenstern

Du könntest den Mond berühren,
den Mond und den Morgenstern.
Ich harre an offenen Türen;
du schaust nur herüber von fern.

Versäumst du die kostbare Stunde
des herbstlichen Sternschnuppenfalls?
Ich stehe mit bebendem Munde,
als seist du die Mitte des Alls.

Ich möchte dir näher begegnen,
bevor uns der Sommer entsinkt,
anstatt eine Hand zu segnen,
die nur im Vorübergehn winkt.

Ich sah, daß in deinen Augen
verlorenes Mondlicht liegt.
Ich möchte so gern an dich glauben…
Ich hätte dich gerne geliebt.

Christina Egan © 2018

Three Weeds

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Three Weeds

(August Tanka)

Small flowering weed coming out of a crack between concrete surfaces.I.

Tall weed in the crack,
its flowers like little suns,
its shadow of ink.
The proud weed and its shadow,
its echo: beauty enough.

II.

Tiny weeds coming out of cracks, with their shadows.Cushion by the path,
tiny purple trefoil leaves
embroidered with stars.
The drought has tinted the green,
drawn up the blood of the earth.

III.

The dandelion
bursting from between the slabs,
Dandelion and other weeds coming out of cracks.yellow, pure yellow.
This brief bright blossom calls out,
clear like brass, like a tuba.

IV.

Three weeds I noticed
finely stitched onto the stone,
shreds of tapestry.
Three weeds I noticed today
and how many did I not?

Christina Egan © 2018

Observations from the great heat and drought of summer 2018. If only we took the time to see, to listen, to feel…

Unplanned addition to the garden. – Photographs: Christina Egan © 2020.

Der Himmel reißt auf

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Der Himmel reißt auf

Zierliche Zweige, schwarz
gegen den Honighimmel,
Pfirsichhimmel,
Flammenhimmel,
die einzelnen winzigen Blätter
klare Keilschriftzeichen
auf irdenen Tafeln,
leicht in der Hand
und schwer von Geheimnis.

Der Himmel reißt auf,
gezacktes Gewölk steigt,
spreizt sich, schwenkt Geärm,
rosa Riesenkoralle
vor blaßblauer Südsee,
zuckt auf, fällt zusammen,
zieht fort, violett verwelkt,
aschene Spur im Äther.
Welch verschwenderischer Glanz…

Christina Egan © 2017

Waiting for the Frog

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Warten auf den Frosch

Warme nasse Nacht:
Ich will sehn, wie der alte Frosch
in den Teich springt!
Hockt er da drüben, glänzend?
Ach, bloß ein Bündel Blätter…

Muddy pond with waterlilies amongst greenery.

Waiting for the Frog

In the warm wet night
I want to watch the old frog
leap into the pond!
Is he crouching there, shiny?
Oh, just a bundle of leaves…

Christina Egan © 2016

Muddy pond with tadpole amongst aquatic plants.

For another tanka about frogs in honour of Basho, see In Starless Night.

Frog pond. Note the tiny tadpole! Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014.

Tabucchis Blau

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Tabucchis Blau

hochsommerhimmel
über Lissabons hügeln

so blau daß es beinahe beißt
so schön daß es beinahe schmerzt

und vor der gleißenden steilen
vielfach verschachtelten stadt

ruft mit demselben trunknen blau
die bucht dir unbeirrbar zu:

du stehst immer am anfang
einer entdeckungsfahrt!

Christina Egan © 2012

Artistic impression of Mediterranean village on steep coast; landscape in orange, sea in blue, village in white

„con… il sole che splendeva, e con una città che scintillava, letteralmente scintillava sotto la sua finestra, e un azzurro, un azzurro mai visto, sostiene Pereira, di un nitore che quasi feriva gli occhi…”

Antonio Tabucchi, Sostiene Pereira

Antonio Tabucchi (1943-2012) loved Lisbon and lived there. I wrote this poem for him when he died: his last voyage would be the one to another, even more beautiful world. The last line can, however, be interpreted in many other ways.

Illustration: “Elba — Land der Esel” by Ottilie Ehlers-Kollwitz (1955). With kind permission of Galerie Klaus Spermann.

Purple Wine

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

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.

Large flat flower in white and purple, with long purple stem, small orange fruit, shiny green leaves.

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

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

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!

This Is (Your Face, Lit up)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

This Is

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 / Crater Lakes

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

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

Olive-green inlet amongst towering black and red rocks, entirely barren.

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

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

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

Little tree with bright-blue blossom, next to pink and blue flowers.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.