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
Mild Christmas Eve
My heavy gate to heaven
has got a secret crack,
and sometimes sunlike flashes
steal through the sudden gap.
There are no stars this Christmas
but those in your sweet face,
no snow and sparkling crystals
but those in your embrace.
You are my splendid banquet,
you are the birth of mirth,
you’ll be my earth in heaven –
my heaven here on earth.
Christina Egan © 2004
Photograph by Gabriel Pollard [CC BY-SA 2.5].
Featured picture on Wikimedia Commons.
Remember November
Eight times the leaves have paled,
been plucked and swept away,
eight times the sun has waned
and steeped the days in grey;
eight times the loom of spring
has woven rainbow rugs,
eight times made blackbirds sing
between the bursting buds;
eight times the fruit has swelled
and, in its turn, the fog,
eight times the frost has quelled
the sap’s impatient throb –
Eight years my heart has found
its breath and path in you;
eight years it’s watched your mouth
for words as warm as true.
Christina Egan © 2005
This anniversary poem goes through the seasons, with a focus on autumn. You could change the title and the number of years if you want it for your own anniversary, perhaps even swap the lines, starting with spring.
zerküssen
ich wasche
mir den tag
aus den augen
und auch den traum
um dich zu erkennen
um dich zu erkunden
wie du wirklich
bist
um den letzten abstand
zwischen du und du
zu ermessen
zu zerküssen
Christina Egan © 1990
The title, something like “kissing away” or “kissing apart” encapsules the message: I invented the word to describe the act of kissing as cancelling the distance between two people.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2020.
Strandkorb Song
What happened to the beach-seat
we found in Germany,
the bench within a basket
beside the Baltic Sea?
The land was lush and sunlit,
the air was pure and free,
the dusk was full of magic,
the surf a mystery.
What happened to the beach-seat
placed there for you and me?
What happened to the footsteps
along the singing sea?
You said you won’t forget it,
the dusk, the moon, and me.
Where has it gone, the moment
of blue eternity?
We cannot leave the basket,
in space and time so far:
it is a secret casket
which holds a sparkling star.
Christina Egan © 2017
‘Beach baskets’ in Ahlbeck on Usedom.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
Strandkörbe, ‘beach baskets’, or hooded beach seats, are an alluring feature of German beaches on both seas.
The story refers to the Midsummernight Far North I have described before on this website. I have developed Strandkorb Song further as lyrics.
Hidden Rivers
This is the time to walk along
the hidden rivers hand in hand;
this is the time to write a song
out of a strangely quiet land.
This is the time to breathe again,
to stand and stare, to skip and run…
The water rippled by the rain,
the water dappled by the sun.
This is the time to dance across
the sea of sorrel and of yarrow,
to sink into the gilded grass
without a worry of tomorrow.
This is the time to hear the heart
of the neglected earth rejoice,
to find the long-forgotten lark
in your beloved’s humming voice.
Christina Egan © 2020
Verborgne Flüsse
Dies ist die Zeit, das Tal zu sichten
verborgner Flüsse, Hand in Hand;
dies ist die Zeit, ein Lied zu dichten
aus einem seltsam stillen Land.
Dies ist die Zeit, die Brust zu heben,
zu springen, stillzustehn, zu spürn…
Gewellt das Wasser unterm Regen,
beglänzt das Wasser vom Gestirn.
Durch Wogen weißer Blütenschäume
und roter Rispen laß uns schreiten,
um sorglos in der späten Wärme
ins sonnengoldne Gras zu gleiten.
Das Herz der unbetretnen Erde
scheint jubelnd dir ins Ohr zu dringen,
das Lied der fastvergeßnen Lerche
aus dem geliebten Mund zu klingen.
Christina Egan © 2020
A happy impression from the coronavirus crisis…
Photograph: Lea Valley. Christina Egan © 2020.
Do Diamonds Die?
Even diamonds die.
Empires erode,
battlements decay,
skyscrapers melt.
Not so what locks
your look into my look,
my heart into your heart.
Love will live.
With or without a night
or even a day,
a confession, a vow.
Love is born love.
Diamonds have grown for us,
as rare in the vast dark soil
as stars in the fathomless void.
Heaven does happen.
Christina Egan © 2004
Illustration from a children’s book of 1896.
Image provided by British Library through Flickr.
P.S.: Reader, he married me! ;o)
Tranquil Dragon
Embroidered with orange lights
are the fanned steel wings of the bridge
suspended in the summer night,
a tranquil dragon bringing luck.
Wide is the night and warm,
like the dark wine of old and ardent love.
The sky reads the low, slow river
as my eye reads yours in a dream.
Sparkling with lights is the city,
sparkling with lights is my soul.
Christina Egan © 2003
Dragons, of course, are noble and bring luck in Chinese mythology.
I must have been thinking of Hammersmith Bridge in London.
You can read more poems about suspension bridges at On the Orange Bridge (San Francisco) and Rosenquarzkammern (Malmö).
alles ist möglich
nicht alles ist glücklich
nicht alles ist richtig
doch alles ist wirklich
und alles ist wichtig
nicht alles ist füglich
nicht alles ist fertig
doch alles ist möglich
und schon gegenwärtig
Christina Egan © 2011
der kieselstein
gesucht für dich, für dich gefunden
hab’ ich den kleinen kieselstein,
den beinah weißen, beinah runden
voll stille und voll sonnenschein.
ich hab’s dem schicksal abgerungen,
ein maßgeschneidertes stück glück:
nur drei verwunschen dunkle stunden,
aufblitzend einen augenblick.
Christina Egan © 2011
Marienkirche, Lübeck, Germany.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014.
gesichter
I.
fotografie
dein angesicht fängt wie ein schrein
den flammenglanz des himmels ein
und stellt ihn zart und zauberbunt
in meines herzens mittelpunkt…
ich bin allein und nicht allein.
II.
teetasse
ich schau in einem schwarzen teich
flüchtig und deutlich ein gesicht
vor einsamkeit und kummer bleich
wie ein gespenst bei mondenlicht…
ich bin es und ich bin es nicht.
III.
verabredung
zwei stimmen stimmen überein
und fremde züge spiegeln sich
zuweilen blütenblätterfein:
auf deines reimt sich mein gesicht!
du weißt es und du weißt es nicht.
Christina Egan © 2012
Two voices which echo each other, two faces which mirror each other, two people who rhyme… Everyone’s dream — and sometimes it comes true.
Christina Egan 