Ich fülle das Papier
Ich fülle das Papier
mit langen schwarzen Kringeln,
die sich von mir zu dir
wie lauter Raupen ringeln.
In Wörtern schicke ich
mein Lächeln und mein Zwinkern
und jenes Frühlingslicht
gleich hinter meinen Wimpern.
Christina Egan © 2012
I had the poem and font colour before I found the caterpillar…!
I send a lot of handwritten letters; last year, it was exactly 100!
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2016.
Persephone
die quellenden blüten
die rollenden wolken
wie flüchtige schrift –
die dürstenden blätter
der perlende regen
das spielende licht –
der sprühende frühling
das leuchtende lächeln
gesicht zu gesicht –
die atmende erde –
das leben – das leben –
und dann das gedicht –
Christina Egan © 2015
Here is this fortnight’s poem in the
photo calendar Rhönkalender 2017!
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.
Red Balloon
In the crowd,
in the too early dark,
the enveloping damp, I rush,
crush onto the red bus, and there,
on the front bench, you are, as if waiting
for me, or at least hoping for me, with a smile,
a wide warm smile, just like the one you gave me
nineteen years ago, with the same smooth oval face;
and our words change the day into a string of pearls,
change the city into a cluster of colourful balloons;
in the damp dark evening, I feel the sun rising,
feel a breeze rising, taking my heart with it,
like a little red balloon, weightless,
into shadeless heights, we are
two bouncing balloons
on a red bus!
And
I love you
so
…
…
…
…
…
Christina Egan © 2016
This little story may work in a translation software.
There is also a wedding or anniversary poem about a
Yellow Balloon !
On the Orange Bridge
I.
The bridge bears tiny trembling lives
across the wild and icy strait,
a miracle of miles.
So moves my life, suspended by
the scarce, but strong and sparkling, stakes
of kisses and of smiles.
II.
If I could pray, my wishes might
arise like incense to the light
and cling to royal robes.
Yet I am weak; all I can give
is work and talk and love and live
on tangy glowing hopes.
Christina Egan © 2008
Golden Gate Bridge. Photograph by Christian Mehlführer.
‘Featured picture’ on Wikimedia Commons.
I wrote these lines just before I went to San Francisco. Coincidentally, I found it so cold there that I could not cross the bridge on foot even in September! Yet, it is gigantic and awe-inspiring, like many things in America, whether natural or man-made.
P.S.: I did get kissed on the bridge…! Thank you!
Proteus
Your beauty is the beauty of the clouds:
as grand and graceful, as remote,
from silver changing into gold,
and changing shape, and changing whereabouts.
Your beauty is the one of Proteus:
I’m bound to watch it swirl and stay,
afraid your heart will likewise sway,
innocuous and gay and treacherous.
Your beauty is the one of Morpheus:
I’m bound to drink it in a dream,
afraid of stumbling on that stream,
with ghostly flowers studded, murderous.
Your beauty is the beauty of the clouds.
your ever-present smile the gleam
behind their soft and tousled seam…
Your soul is what your face reveals and shrouds.
Christina Egan © 2012
—
Daedalus
I watch the condor pass:
lofty and lonely,
steady and strong,
improbable like Daedalus…
I watch the condor pass
and want to follow him
across the barren peaks –
I want to touch the clouds…
Christina Egan © 2012
die große tauschbörse
achtung – achtung –
alle herhören
heute nach sonnenuntergang
beginnt die große tauschbörse
steine gegen brot
wasser gegen wein
tränen gegen träume
worte gegen wirklichkeit
achtung – achtung –
allen weitersagen
und hier ist ein lächeln
zum anstecken
Christina Egan © 2015
Christina Egan 