To the rising sun

chaos of colour
Chaos of colour, John Lyons (40 x 40, oil on canvas)

To the rising sun

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

Morning moon

moon

Morning moon

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


Morgenmond

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

 

The squared universe

The squared universe

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


Das quadratische Universum

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)

Ainsi s’en va la vie

Guillaume_Apollinaire_foto
Apollinaire (1880-1918)

Ainsi s’en va la vie

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.

To be said before sleeping

To be said before sleeping

Poem of hours
           in which the clocks
call out to each other
           Time has no message
time is the absence
           of message
time is timeless
           it moves in
and out of us
           as temperatures
rise and fall
           and the house
is silent
           and nothing stirs
but for the lovers
           who in the dark night
gently hold each other
           in their eyes
and till dawn breaks
           are never still

John Lyons

 

The colour of love

forcefield
The colour of love, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

The colour of love

Colours
           that rise
within me
           that burn
with passion
           that consume me
that fire me up
           that spur me on
to express
           what is
within me
           a cloud
of feelings
           a constant
effervescence
           of colours
that coalesce
           into shapes
and gestures
           that are
a subscript
           for love

John Lyons

A bravura of the mind

A bravura of the mind

And yet
           what is mind ?
Say that we are
           textual beings
readers of all things
           say that words are
our common currency
           our feelings
put into breath
           our ideas
all notions
           of time and space
all relationships
           and especially
that shared passion
           we call love

John Lyons