France is a single street
that moves up and down the country
sometimes its centre is Paris
Sometimes it’s Nice or Lyon
But always it’s always a single street
which has no beginning
and no end
And it’s full of French earth
washed by many fine rivers
that flow down from
tall mountains and hills
into the valleys into the sea
John Lyons
We who stand
on the edge of space
wave to each other
in the distance
We carry orchids
to bridge the gap
we burn candles
in tribute
to life’s ephemera
We fall
deeper and deeper
into love
until there’s no escape
While on the river
white swans
preen the feathers
of their reflection
on the still waters
We know where the river
will end and we know
that we will end there
too
John Lyons
So the demarcations
of day and night
of here and now
or there
or there
of now and again
the rise and fall
of empires
as it always was
and will be
and love parading
through the streets
of Vienna
strolling hand in hand
under the dark
moonless sky
love in which the body
is taken to its limits
overreaches itself
pours into another
so that it is neither
he nor she
words against the silence
breath against extinction
life and death
universe without limit
time a mere drop
in the ocean
John Lyons
By a process
of elimination
defining who I am
by describing
what I am not
an admirer of the sea
and of the mountains
the hills and the valleys
shorelines I have
walked along
those I have known
those who have
disowned me
colours
at the tips
of my fingers
words
on the tip
of my tongue
chords
from the vocal cords
and yet an inner silence
untroubled by meaning
riffs of affection
curled in a ball
of love
John Lyons
Whose spirit is this
that rises every day
that shapes meaning
out of nothing
that defies the seasons
and the passage of time
to sing of roses
and nightingales
to gild the moment
with deep love
a voice driven
by gestures
of the mind
ennobled
by the ebb
and flow of tides
by moon-phases
a voice that willfully
scatters words
where petals
are wont to lie
John Lyons
Wessen Geist ist das
das steigt jeden Tag
das formt die Bedeutung
aus dem Nichts
das trotzt den Jahreszeiten
und der Lauf der Zeit
von Rosen und Nachtigallen
singen
den Moment vergolden
mit tiefer Liebe ?
eine Stimme getrieben
durch Gesten
aus dem Gedächtnis
geadelt
von der Ebbe
und Fluss der Gezeiten
durch Mondphasen
eine Stimme, die absichtlich
streut Wörter
wo Blütenblätter
sind gewohnt
sich hinzulegen
We live by water
blue skies
and in our parks
the browns
and greens of nature
We are made
of sky and water
and earth
fire keeps us
alive
John Lyons
What I’m wondering
on this lovely morning
is the purpose of it all
my breath
my beating heart
a neighbour’s dog
barking
magpies
dressed like Napoleon
believing that they
can conquer the world
and I’m playing with words
looking forward
to my next move
and the moon is there
a reminder
that what goes around
comes around
the sun has risen
from the dead of night
and I am in love
and that’s the truth
John Lyons
The moon is an eye
high above the horizon
it sees me
it knows me
gales have blown
but the moon is wholly
serene
on this winter morning
birds cavorting
in the strong breeze
my life continually
ahead of me
This round disk of perfection
with it shaded light
bountiful in its message
of peace
geometries that lie
at the heart of our being
are thrown into perspective
and I go calmly
under its silent
timeless gaze
John Lyons
Der Mond ist ein Auge
hoch über dem Horizont
es sieht mich
es kennt mich
Stürme haben geblasen
aber der Mond ist ganz
heiter
an diesem Wintermorgen
Vögel tummeln sich
in der starken Brise
mein Leben ständig
vor mir
Diese runde Scheibe der Perfektion
damit schattiertes Licht
reichlich in seiner Botschaft
von Frieden
Geometrien die ruhen
im Herzen unseres Seins
werden in Perspektive geworfen
und ich gehe ruhig
unter seinem Schweigen
zeitloser Blick
That eternal consolation
that nothing is lost
in the universe
every breath
just as every grain of sand
accounted for
every sparrow
every lily in the field
every sigh of love
or lament
nothing is lost
whether among the living
or the dead
and we are all
of all ages and generations
contemporaries
John Lyons
Dieser ewige Trost
dass nichts verloren geht
im Universum
jeder Atemzug
so wie jedes sandkorn
entfielen
jeder Spatz
jede Lilie auf dem Feld
jeder Seufzer der Liebe
oder jede Klage
nichts ist verloren
ob unter den Lebenden
oder die Toten
und wir sind alle
aller Altersgruppen und Generationen
Zeitgenossen
John Lyons
(Übersetzung von John Lyons)
That’s how life goes
Dear Fernand at the Front
We are delighted
And our spirits are sharp.
We shoot into the dark night,
The Boche fire at the day
We live on History
We dream of Love
And when the shell meows
We always laugh louder
All those in my coop
Make fun of death.
Guillaume Apollinaire
(translation by John Lyons)
Ainsi s’en va la vie
Mon Fernand sur le front
On a l’âme ravie
Et l’esprit méme est prompt.
On tire à la nuit noire,
Le Boche tire au jour
Nous vivons de l’Histoire
Nous rêvons de l’Amour
Et quand l’obus miaule
On rit toujours plus fort
Tous ceux de ma piaule
Se moquent de la mort.
johnjosephlyons 