um mitternacht (der letzte bus)

um mitternacht

um mitternacht
der letzte bus
die straße strömt
ein dunkler fluß

die häuser schlafen
wand an wand
die bäume ruhn
im brautgewand

um mitternacht
der letzte kuß
die kurze kerze
loht mit lust

der mond hängt schräg
ein heller mund
die stille quillt
aus sattem grund

Christina Egan © 2015


This night scene is so peaceful that everything seems animate
and comfortable: the road is streaming, the houses are sleeping,
the trees are slumbering, dressed in blossom like brides.

Yet the person observing this is restless: seeing bright lips in the slanting
moon crescent, burning up like a candle, and knowing that life is
as short as a candle…

The German word ‘Lust’ could mean ‘lust’, ‘desire’, ‘zest’ or ‘pleasure’!

restloslächeln

restloslächeln

von dem blütengesicht
wendest du dich ab
vor der glockenstimme
läufst du davon

denn du willst dich nicht
wundsehnen
nie mehr willst du dich
krankfragen

es ist dir zu teuer das
restloslächeln
zu gefährlich ist dir das
endlosküssen

und dein eignes blütengesicht
versteckst du sorgfältig
samt deiner glockenstimme
in deinem kopfkissen.

Christina Egan © 2012


Observations of the fear of love, the fear of falling in love, the flight from a person you would love to love…

In German, you can more easily invent new words which will be written in one word: here, it is ‘making yourself sore with longing’, ‘making yourself ill with asking’, ‘smiling without leftover’, and ‘kissing without end’. Occasionally, German is more concise than English!

Warten ist der Winter

Warten ist der Winter

Warten ist der Winter, Warten
auf den endlich wieder starken
Glanz, der sanft ins Leben küßt,
was vor Gram verblichen ist.

Einsam ist der kleine Garten,
während Garben aller Farben
unter altem Laub und Moos
schlummern im verdorrten Schoß.

Hilflos ist das lange Darben
für den unbemerkten Garten:
hilflos, doch nicht hoffnungslos,
denn der Himmel ist sein Trost.

Christina Egan © 2012

On the Orange Bridge

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.

Golden Gate Bridge from below, with waves lapping a rocky beach.

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!

The Dittany of Crete

The Dittany of Crete

I’ve found the place where red and blue,
where earth and sea and sky all meet;
I’ve even climbed the ashen rock
to pick the dittany of Crete:

to weave a spell about your eyes,
to wake your smiling silent mouth,
to share with you the flaming light
and heavy flavours of the south.

Christina Egan © 2012

Hanging oblong flowers in bright green with bright pink.

 

The ‘dittany of Crete’ is a rare wild plant, gathered as a flavouring, medicine, aphrodisiac, or love token. I tried it on Crete in a delicious and wholesome tea!

The red colour in the poem could be the pink and orange surf in the sunset, or the pink and orange beaches of Crete. The sea might be bright blue and then again bright green

Origanum dictamnus.
Photograph:
HelenaH via Wikimedia.

Screen

Screen

Last night, at last, beside
your arms, you opened wide
your lips – and in the stream
of quivering delight
below the lifted screen
I touched your silver soul –
One moment, I felt whole –
But then you sank away,
it was already day:
you had been but a dream.

Christina Egan © 2015

Gingerbread Man

Gingerbread Man

God made you of some gingerbread
which over time intensifies:
so that with every year, your breath
will taste of hotter, sweeter spice!

Christina Egan © 2014

We Married on the Ferris-Wheel

Vienna quivered in the heat
for our furtive feast:
we married on the ferris-wheel
(we kissed on it, at least).

The palaces shone yellow-white
like lemon cakes with glaze:
we married in the royal grounds
(we kissed within a maze).

That summer rolled into a ball
and down the hill of time –
Vienna basks in splendour still,
my bridegroom still is mine!

Christina Egan © 2014

String of Pearls

Your presence makes this globe that whirls
the best of all existing worlds —
your kisses make this blob a pearl
from which a string of worlds unfurls!

Christina Egan © 2015

Asteroid

He inhabits his own tiny planet,
a fragment of rock, you might say;
his orbit seems steep and erratic
and often immensely away.

Yet, what you can’t see from your garret
nor find in your smart telescopes:
it’s two of them snug on that comet
that’s studded with roses and oaks.

Christina Egan © 2010