Erster Juli / Eimerrand

Erster Juli

Die Erde atmet durch ein jedes Blatt,
von Sonne, Wind und Regen rund und satt.
Die Kletterpflanze streckt sich aus und birst
in weiße Kreise bis zum Schuppenfirst.
Die Nelkenwurz erbebt im Hummelflug,
die Beeren filtern dunkelblaues Blut.
Und selbst die totgeglaubte Nelke glüht
in einem starken Rosa, das genügt.

Christina Egan © 2014


 

Eimerrand

So mit Sonne vollgesogen
ist das nördlich schöne Land
funkelndbunter Wassertropfen
an des Schöpfers Eimerrand!

Christina Egan © 2015

Red geraniums, pink verbena, blueberries around lawn

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014

I have also written English poems about the magical time of Early JulyThere are more plants bursting with life at Green Blood: four German and English poems for the four seasons.

What must be the shortest poem on this website, other than haiku, is a powerful one: a whole stretch of land is only a sparkling drop on God’s bucket. The lines were inspired by a verse in Isaiah claiming that the nations are just drops on a bucket and grains of sand.

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Orange Beads

Orange Beads

I.

I nod to the flower
the colour of dark wine
stalks and spikes that tower
above my legs and spine

twin doors an orange spill
the only one in town?
why is my own door still
an ordinary brown?

O sweet day!

II.

All these parallel roads
the orange doors are where?
again the suburb soaks
in sunshine hello there!

they smile and say hello
all else though stays behind
their sturdy frames and so
I keep my orange find

two bright beads

III.

The hawthorn turns orange
the blackberry turns black
mingling at the park’s fringe
behind the cycle track

the sky is blue as if
this were a normal state
as if we could just live
beyond the iron gate

of summer

Christina Egan © 2016


In London, you can find many front doors painted in red, blue, or green, but I had never spotted an orange one. I have mentioned a striking yellow door elsewhere. I usually go out without a camera, but I capture impressions with my pen!

There are so many green spaces in London that you can walk through parkland for hours. To find blackberries and hawthorns tucked between a duck pond and a little copse is quite normal in this vast city of over eight million people.

The verse pattern is borrowed from the French poet, Jean-Yves Léopold, who does not have a website. Eight short rhymed lines, almost without punctuation, are followed by a ninth line which is even shorter and does not rhyme at all, so it stands out.

First Autumn Days / Erste Herbsttage

First Autumn Days
(September Haiku)

*

Fiery flower,
still sucking sunshine, still scaling
the wooden fence.

*

The sky turns deep pink
above the first rusty leaves
and burning berries.

*

The moon, low and large,
a knob of solid silver
on heaven’s sceptre.

***

Erste Herbsttage

*

Feurige Blume,
noch saugst du die Sonne ein,
kletterst den Zaun hoch.

*

Tiefrosa Himmel,
erste rostrote Blätter,
brennende Beeren.

*

Der Mond, niedrig, groß,
solide Silberkugel
am Himmelszepter.

*

Christina Egan © 2015

*

Haiku have 5 + 7 + 5 syllables.
The German haiku are translated
from the English ones.

Hält die Waage Nacht dem Tage

Hält die Waage Nacht dem Tage

Sieh, Morgen graut,
sieh, Morgen blaut!
Noch einmal leuchtet grün das Laub,
noch einmal schimmert gold das Haar,
und Mittag bäckt die Früchte gar.

Das Ziffernblatt
liegt sonnensatt,
der Schatten aber rückt hinab.
Der Wein saugt letzten Saft hinauf,
die Felder halten Ausverkauf.

Das Licht entsinkt,
das Jahr verklingt…
Noch einmal wird der Schritt beschwingt,
bevor uns Nebel stumm beschwert
und Sturm uns durch die Haare fährt.

Hält die Waage
Nacht dem Tage,
fällt die Blüte ohne Klage,
treibt der Feuerdorn die Beeren.
Was vergeht, wird wiederkehren.

Christina Egan © 2015