Make a list
of all the things
we all do
we must do
or die
make a list
of all the things
we can do
we can all do
it’s a big world
for so many
small minds
make a list
of all the positives
of all the negatives
draw up
the balance sheet
be grateful for
some things
militate for others
make a list of all
that makes you
happy
make a list of all
that makes you
sad
choose a partner
and compare notes
John Lyons
The summer drones. The afternoon drags;
confused she sensed the freshness of her dress
and put into the compelling étude
her impatience for something real
that might appear: tomorrow, that evening—,
that perhaps was already there, albeit hidden;
and through the high panoramic windows
suddenly she glimpsed the rain-soaked grounds.
Then she stopped playing; looked out, folded
her hands; longed for a thick book—
and abruptly dismissed the jasmine scent.
She found that it made her sick.
Rainer Maria Rilke (4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(translation by John Lyons)
Der Sommer summt. Der Nachmittag macht müde;
sie atmete verwirrt ihr frisches Kleid
und legte in die triftige Etüde
die Ungeduld nach einer Wirklichkeit,
die kommen konnte: morgen, heute abend—,
die vielleicht da war, die man nur verbarg;
und vor den Fenstern, hoch und alles habend,
empfand sie plötzlich den verwöhnten Park.
Da brach sie ab; schaute hinaus, verschränkte
die Hände; wünschte sich ein langes Buch—
und schob auf einmal den Jasmingeruch
erzürnt zurück. Sie fand, daß er sie kränkte.
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translation by John Lyons)
All night it rained
all night the wind howled
all night he expected a call
rain beat against the windows
the wind shook the eaves
there was complete darkness
an absolute human silence
amid the storm : but no call came
though he waited all night
and longed to hear her voice
John Lyons
Die ganze Nacht hat es geregnet
die ganze Nacht heulte der Wind
die ganze Nacht erwartete er einen Anruf
Regen schlug gegen die Fenster
Der Wind schüttelte die Traufe
es herrschte völlige Dunkelheit
eine absolute menschliche Stille
inmitten des Sturms: aber es kam kein Ruf
obwohl er die ganze Nacht gewartet hat
und sehnte sich danach, ihre Stimme zu hören
Übersetzt von John Lyons
These magpies
with their plump
white bellies
rule the air
scattered on high branches
they gather in groups
and sit in judgment
upon us
I remember the white walls
the cold damp bedrooms
the peeling eggshell distemper
a pale sky that stretched
beyond the horizon
and magpies sitting
on the tall trees
at the rear of the garden
or swooping down
onto the lawn
they sat in judgment then
and sit in judgment now
they find us guilty
guilty as charged
John Lyons
Yesterday
two blue-tits
first one
then another
sitting on a branch
that gently sways
under their slight
weight
They don’t stay long
just long enough
for me to notice them :
their song
is indecipherable
but I get the message
John Lyons
The choreography
of paint on the canvas
the brush swaying
from side to side
crossing the surface
in leaps and bounds
air moving
through the bristles
energy unleashed
life as it should be lived
John Lyons
Beautiful mottled January sky
light illuminating
shreds of grey cloud
birds engaged
in aimless enjoyment
the to and fro of their lives
the year is on the turn
there may be better days to come
but this is one of the best so far
and it feels good
to be alive
to know that there is love
in the world
and to be a part of it
John Lyons
And again we ask
how many dawns
and what lasts
unbroken
on the wheel of time
what is built to last
a bridge or a cathedral
or a castle in the sky
yet what outlasts them all
is the word
Even though the language dies
the words remain
intact somewhere
in the collective mind
What lasts
is what returns
time and time again
promises and vows
and declarations
of love
its ebb and flow
amid the light
and the darkness
Love lasts
love the word
verb and noun
the love forever
on lovers’ lips
John Lyons
Anonymous moon
half-moon
globe of dust
and dreams
and measurement
of my life
Sleepless moon
empty of promise
empty of time
empty of love
Tunes played
on a fractured harp
amid the mist
and at times frost
But for your breath
I would be cold stone
But for your palpable breath
I would not be
John Lyons
Anonymer Mond
Halbmond
Kugel aus Staub
und Träumen
und Messung
meines Lebens
Schlafloser Mond
leer von Versprechen
zeitlos
leer von Liebe
Melodien gespielt
auf einer gebrochenen Harfe
inmitten des Nebels
und manchmal Frost
Ohne deinen Atem
wäre ich ein kalter Stein
Ohne deinen fühlbaren Atem
ich würde nicht sein
(German version by John Lyons)
We move among flowers, vine leaves, fruit.
They do not speak only of the years.
Out of the darkness a colourful display emerges
and perhaps bears the jealous glint
of those dead who invigorate the earth.
What do we know about their part in this?
It has long been their way to enrich
the clay with their generous marrow.
The only question now is: are they happy to do this? …
This fruit demands the arduous labour of slaves,
driven by us, by their masters?
Are these the souls who sleep at the roots
and favour us with their abundance,
this mingling of silent strength and kisses?
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translation by John Lyons)
Wir gehen um mit Blume, Weinblatt, Frucht.
Sie sprechen nicht die Sprache nur des Jahres.
Aus Dunkel steigt ein buntes Offenbares
und hat vielleicht den Glanz der Eifersucht
der Toten an sich, die die Erde stärken.
Was wissen wir von ihren Teil an dem?
Es ist seit langem ihre Art, den Lehm
mit ihrem freiem Marke zu durchmärken.
Nun fragt sich nur : tun sie es gern? …
Drängt diese Frucht, ein Werk von schweren Sklaven,
geballt zu uns empor, zu ihren Herrn?
Sind sie die Herren , die bei den Wurzel schlafen,
und gönnen uns aus ihren Überflüssen
dies Zwischending aus stummer Kraft und Küssen?
johnjosephlyons 