The Absence

“I speak to you across cities

I speak to you across plains

My mouth is upon your pillow

Both faces of the wall come meeting

My voice discovering you

I speak to you of eternity

O cities memories of cities

Cities wrapped in our desires

Cities come early cities come lately

Cities strong and cities secret

Plundered of their master’s builders

All their thinkers all their ghosts

Fields pattern of emerald

Bright living surviving

The harvest of the sky over our earth

Feeds my voice I dream and weep

I laugh and dream among the flames

Among the clusters of the sun

And over my body your body spreads

The sheet of its bright mirror.

- Paul Eluard, “The Absence” (1942)

Osip Mandelstam (Poet)

Osip Mandelstam,  Jewish-Russian poet: January 15, 1891 - 1938 (murdered in Stalin’s death camp in Vladivostok)…

Illustration: David Levin

Alone I stare into the frost’s white face.
It’s going nowhere, and I—from nowhere.
Everything ironed flat, pleated without a wrinkle:
Miraculous, the breathing plain.

Meanwhile the sun squints at this starched poverty—
The squint itself consoled, at ease … 
The ten-fold forest almost the same …
And snow crunches in the eyes, innocent, like clean bread.

                                                              — January 16, 1937

(Translated by John High and Matvei Yankelevich)

I cover the waterfront

I cover the waterfront
Watchin' the ship go by
I could see everybody's baby
But I couldn't see mine
I could see the ships pullin' in
To the harbor
I could see the people
Meeting their loved one
Shakin' hand
I sat there
So all alone
Coverin' the waterfront

And after a while
All the people
Left the harbor
And headed for their destination
All the ships
Left the harbor
And headed for their next destination
I sat there
Coverin' the waterfront

And after a while
I looked down the ocean
As far as I could see - in the fog
I saw a ship
It headed this way
Comin' out the foam
It must be my baby
Comin' down
And after a while
The ship pulled into the harbor
Rollin' slow
So triple (?)
And my baby
Stepped off board
I was still
Coverin' the waterfront

Said "Johnny,
Our ship had trouble - with the fog
And that's why we're so late
So late
Comin' home
Comin' down"

Wishes for a new year

May you see

a beetle deliberately

unfolding his aerodynamics;

a tomato seedling

triumphantly thrusting his arms

into the sunlight,

clasping the husk of his seed

like an afterbirth;

may you see

the baleful eye of the barbet

soften as he watches you

placing out a chicken carcass;

a brave little bubble

in your glass of Chardonnay

fighting entropy

and at last giving up

with a small hiccup;

may you see

your beloved's eye unveiled

by a sleepy eyelid,

and see reflected time

tiptoeing backwards

to a moment jointly held in joy.

May you see the yacht

you are sailing in

run before the wind of time

towards the misty blue line

of unexplored yesterdays.

De Waal Venter

(South-African poet)

Three matchsticks

Image : Web

Three matchsticks lit one by one in the night

The first to see the whole of your face

The second to see your eyes

The third to see your mouth

And complete darkness to remember this all

With you locked in my arms—

Jacques Prévert, “Paris at Night”  

The time will come

But when will it come . . .. . . . . .

Image: Forgiven

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was yourself.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

—Derek Walcott

Sea Calm

Solitude

Photo: Ben Locke

How still,
How strangely still
The water is today,
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way. 

Langston Hughes