The Lake and the Rain

The Lake and the Rain

The lake is a mirror
of willow and reed,
a sheet of opaque
and buckled glass
whose bulges break
the billowing leaves
and swaying stalks,
so that the strokes
of umbra and ochre,
of olive and lime
form ever new patterns…

And then the drizzle
adds ripple on ripple,
painting an intricate
pulsing design
of circles and squares,
flashing and fleeting,
never repeating…
never depleted…
never completed…
It all has a meaning,
It all, maybe, matters.

Christina Egan ©2022

Summer Rain (II)

The summer clouds, the summer sun
are dazzling on the little lake,
the summer wind, the summer rain
are writing on its shiny slate.

You need not know the ancient script,
you need not know the ancient tongue:
the message echoes in your chest,
the summer rain, the summer sun.

Christina Egan ©2023

The first poem resembles a Cubist painting of overlapping and breaking shapes in sombre earthy colours: nature viewed as an abstract painting, or rather, a composition in permanent motion.

The second poem reads the rain on the lake as a secret message, perhaps like the ancient declarations on the Rosetta Stone… We may not be able to decipher or understand the message sufficiently, but it is there!

Everything reflects everything else… and perhaps the whole world reflects a higher world. All this beauty and meaning can be found in the smallest slice of nature, in the pond down the road.

Promise / Verheißung


Promise (January Tanka)

Beach of coal-black sand,
turquoise lagoon, pink sunrise:
all this in one sky.
Layers of cloud, air, and fire
above the cold waiting earth.

*

Under the full moon
the denuded twigs rejoice
– look! – studded with buds.
Beneath the skin of the trees
– listen! – the sap is brewing.

Christina Egan ©2022



Verheißung (Januar-Tanka)

Schwarz, türkis, rosa:
Strand, See und Sonnenaufgang
im selben Himmel.
Wolken, Luft, Feuer über
kalter wartender Erde.

*

Entblößtes Gezweig
jubelt unterm Vollmond – schau! –
mit Knospen besetzt.
Unter der Haut der Bäume
– lausche nur! – brauen die Säfte.

Christina Egan ©2022


The colourful landscape was a mirage in the sky, or a promise, over the dull lands of winter. There are indeed deep-black beaches, on the Azores or the Canaruy Islands for instance, and they might be warm even in January…

The Bricklayers

The Bricklayers

O Land of Ice and Fire

In the Cool of the Evening

In the Cool of the Evening

In the cool of the evening, silver-lit,
when the tide of noise has receded at last,
God walks along the coal-black beach
to listen out for the whispering waves,
to listen out for prayers and sighs,
to look for golden gems in the sand,
to look for purity in the hearts.

Christina Egan © 2016

Necklace of matt black and translucent green beads.

These lines were inspired by the pristine deep-black beaches of Lanzarote, where you can find lava and, in some rare places, tiny shards of olivine.

The strange idea that God walks on earth in the evening to observe humans stems from the story of Adam and Eve, when they are still in paradise but have lost their purity of heart (Genesis 3,8).

cartwheels


600 poems posted on this site !


cartwheels

cartwheels of stars
sparkling spilling
turning rolling
sinking back
into the black

and then comets
shooting up –
comets up-
side down!

goldfish in the sky
shooting swerving
flapping lurching
dropping back
into the black

drops of molten gold
like prayers
for the new year
to the Unknown God

Christina Egan © 2017

Snow, Slow / Schnee, langsam

Patio with some plants at far end covered in thick fresh snow.Snow, Slow
(Christmas Haiku)

Snow, slow, abundant,
covering the sleek black soil
like icing-sugar.

*

Flames of real candles
in the darkened room, like stars
visiting the earth.

*

Tinsel billowing
on the fir-twigs, as if stirred
by an angel’s wing.

***

Schnee, langsam
(Weihnachtshaiku)

Schnee, langsam, reichlich,
fällt auf blanke schwarze Erde…
wie Zuckerstaub.

*

Wachskerzenflammen
im Dämmer… wie Sterne,
herniedergestiegen.

*

Lametta flattert
an Zweigen… wie angerührt
von Engelsflügeln.

 Christina Egan © 2017

 

Real candles, even made of beeswax, are still common on Christmas trees in Germany, and lametta is used more sparingly and usually silver, reminiscent of snow.

Thick snow is nowadays a rare phenomenon in England… Note the tiny Christmas tree taken out after the festive days (and later planted into the soil!). – Photograph: Christina Egan © 2018.

Fürst Schnee und Fürstin Mond

Fürst Schnee und Fürstin Mond

Fürst Schnee und Fürstin Mond
verwandeln rings das Land
mit sanftem Silberglanz,
wenn König Winter thront
und lenkt mit weißer Hand
den stillen Flockentanz.

Verschwunden ist der Staub,
versilbert ist das Schwarz,
vorweg verklärt die Welt.
Da wundert sich das Aug,
da weitet sich das Herz
bis an das Himmelszelt.

Christina Egan © 2017

Gedächtnisgarten zu Tottenham

Gedächtnisgarten zu Tottenham

Wie Sternennebel
schweben die schneeweißen Büsche
im Nachtgrün am Rande des Parks,
und aus dem sattschwarzen Grunde
ruft ihrer mehr herauf
das funkelnde Zepter des Mondes,
als lebte der Amsel Perlengesang
das Dunkel hindurch.

Wie übergroße Urwaldblüten
liegen in Schlaf geschmiegt
die silbernen Gänse,
erfroren geglaubte Träume
verlorengegebener Kraft.
Der Duft von überallher
ist schwer, er wiegt,
er ist wirklich.

Die Rinnen der Inschrift
im Granit des Gartentors
füllen sich langsam mit Sinn:
Garten des Friedens.

Christina Egan © 2006

High brick wall with inscription 'Garden of Peace'; iron gate with lawn and palm-trees behind.

Memorial Garden, Tottenham Cemetery. Photograph: Christina Egan © 2013.

Beginenhof in Ghent

Beginenhof in Ghent

wie finde ich sie wieder
die reihen schwarzer türen
die zu den treppengiebeln
und tulpenbäumen führen

Gate into cobblestone lane with white walls, black doors, and red buildings behind.wie kann ich sie entdecken
die schlichten weißen mauern
die um erblühnde hecken
und rote häuser dauern

gewunden sind die gassen
versperrt von breiten flüssen
geborsten ist das pflaster
und meine schuh zerschlissen

wo nisten die gestalten
in schwarz und weißen trachten
wie hundert flinke schwalben
über den grauen grachten

wo sind die schönen schriftzüge
die weiß auf schwarz verkünden
die heiligen drei könige
wärn manchmal anzufinden

wie finde ich sie wieder
die schweren blanken türen
die durch bestirnte lieder
ins glühnde schweigen führen

Christina Egan © 2018

Two heavy black wooden doors in a white brick wall, with inscriptions as below.

“House of the Three Wise Men” (Three Holy Kings, in other languages) and “House Jesus, Mary, Joseph” at a former Beguinage in Ghent (Klein Begijnhof).

This was a type of convent where the sisters were allowed to go out and also to leave after each year of service. I imagined the story of a woman who wants to rejoin the community and for some reason ‘cannot find it any more’.

Photographs: Christina Egan © 2018.