espacio creativo: noviembre 2004 Imprimir E-mail
07.11.04

Irma Dillard rscj | Joan Sweetman rscj

Fotografía por Irma Dillard rscj

Provincia de Estados Unidos

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Photography by Irma Dillard rscj

Province of the United States

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Photographie par Irma Dillard rscj

Province de États Unis

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Poesia por Joan Sweetman rscj

Provincia de Irlanda/Escocia

Poetry by Joan Sweetman rscj

Province of Ireland/Scotland

Poèmes par Joan Sweetman rscj

Province de Irlande/Écosse

Four poems of autumn and winter

Snowfall

"Here comes the snow." A scowl went round the room.
"I hate the slush, I hate the skidding wheels".
The fairy dancers flourished toes and heels
All unapplauded by those eyes of gloom.
But one had never seen the magic loom
Of Beauty in December, so she kneels
Rapt at the window, answering the appeals
Of Love-in-action. What a froth and fume,
And down-stampede, and feathery upswirl,
And peaceful swarming in the upper air!
"Jesus I thank you." said the little girl.
The dour hearts melted, gratefully aware
That Goodness, pouring pell-mell from the sky,
Encounters sometimes the correct reply.

The Thrush

Joy calleth to sorrow
As deep unto deep.
0 thrush, leave your singing,
And let sorrow sleep!
0 thrush calling silverly
From the wet field,
If you would stop singing,
My heart would be healed.
The sighing of autumn,
The fall of the leaf,
The wild-weeping winter
Have brought me no grief;
But the song of the thrush
O'er the sun-smitten bole
Has touched unto anguish
The quick of my soul


Pearl in Winter

I was waiting one day
for the 46A
In Dun Laoire town
Where the road slopes down
When the baby ahead
Turned his bonneted head,
Looked me straight in the eye,
(He was held shoulder-high)
And in that bitter season
For no earthly reason
Shone full in my face
A smile of pure grace.

I was old, I was plain,
I was drab as the rain,

I was old, I was plain, I was drab as the rain, So I nearly fell flat
When presented with that Pearl of possible things-¬A smile without strings.

So I nearly fell flat
So I nearly fell flat
When presented with that
Pearl of possible things-
-A smile without strings.


Autumn
Autumn plunges Midas-fingers
In among the leaves;
Gold cockades in isolation;
Proto-signs of desolation...
Summer-lover grieves.
Sorrow plunges Midas-fingers
In among my leaves;
Gold cockades in isolation,
Rare rosettes of resignation
Angel-hover weaves.
Proto-signs of that declension
When throughout the wood's extension
Every dream of time-dimension
Heaven-zephyr reaves....

Autumn plunges Midas-fingers
In among the leaves.

Joan Sweetman rscj
Province of Ireland-Scotland
Última modificación ( 13.10.05 )
 

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